


When the Sunrise is Upon Me

by besthonestliar



Series: Even A Fool Knows [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 19 chapters like Jisung's song 19!, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Growing Up, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Inspired by Day6 Zombie and Streetlight, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minho is seriously going through it, Seventeen and NCT cameos, Slow Burn, jisung is the sun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 07:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 93,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26469793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/besthonestliar/pseuds/besthonestliar
Summary: - "even the darkest shadows can only exist with light."Minho knew it was wrong, but it kept happening.University life, family life, all of life is stifling, but at least there's Jisung.In which Minho learns the hard way you can't run forever. Sometimes it's okay to stop and turn around. Maybe the light of a sunrise will be waiting.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, established Hyunjin/Jeongin, hint of Changlix
Series: Even A Fool Knows [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924225
Comments: 168
Kudos: 243





	1. Not Alive But I'm Still Walking

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This follows the Even a Fool Knows fic and is set in the same universe, but they're completely stand-alone fics that can be read separately. Although if you're interested in my version of the On Track MV, I highly recommend reading the first part of the series.
> 
> For those that have read part 1, this fic deals with similar themes but in more depth. It has a lot more angst and will also be more explicit but hopefully you'll still enjoy the story. 
> 
> This fic was inspired by a comment on Even a Fool Knows left by user lirrypad so you're the reason this fic has come to fruition! Thank you so much!
> 
> I have already finished writing this fic, so fear not, it will be completed. and I'll upload weekly each Tuesday. Uhh, it starts kinda slow chapter 1 but the plot takes off chapter two pretty fast :D Also I was heavily inspired by the extreme pain Zombie by Day6 and Changbin's Streetlight caused me, which is probably what made this fic so heavy.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it :)  
> besthonestliar x

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That no life lives for ever;  
> That dead men rise up never;  
> That even the weariest river  
> Winds somewhere safe to sea."
> 
> \- The Garden of Proserpine, by Algernon Charles Swinburne

Minho dragged the two oversized suitcases past the front door and wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers. September sunshine struck the back of his neck unpleasantly like a hairdryer on the highest setting. His parents followed behind him, carrying all sorts of unnecessary items they were convinced he needed to bring.

Together, the three of them walked through the two-bedroom flat he’d be living in for his second year of university.

“You can head back home now or it’ll be late when you get back,” Minho said to his parents. “You didn’t need to send me off anyway.”

“Nonsense,” snapped Minho’s mother. “You have to give a good first impression to your flatmate so of course I had to step in. We can’t have them thinking they’re better off than you.”

“Mum,” whinged Minho, “No one cares about this stuff. It’s not a competition.”

His mother’s expression showed she thought it was exactly that.

“We just wanted to help you move in. Didn’t we, dear?”

She nudged her husband, eyes glinting dangerously.

“O-of course,” agreed Minho’s father hastily. “But we should get going now, or it’ll be late when we get back.”

Minho thought his mother was going to argue but she relented and pulled Minho in for clawed hug, long manicured nails digging into his back. The subtle scent of expensive perfume applied in just the right amount surrounded him.

“Come home if you need to,” She spoke directly into Minho’s ear as if it would drill the message into his brain and he winced, her voice ringing. “Make some good friends this year.”

For them, a ‘good friend’ needed a family that could comfortably pay the university tuition fees, whose parents both had degrees and worked high end jobs. Minho begged to differ.

“I’m not blind, you know. You’ve been off ever since you broke up with Jeongyeon last year. Now you’ve stopped talking to Hyunjin, you seem to be all alone. It doesn’t look good, you know.”

Childhood best friends didn’t cut each off out of the blue. Of course there were rumours of what happened between them. That didn’t mean his parents could keep pouring salt into the wound, blame perched like a vulture on the shoulders, ravenous for Minho’s flesh.

“I know you were busy in your last year of high school applying for Medicine, but now you’ve gotten into university, you should relax more. Always working.” She sniffed with disapproval. “The social side is _just as important._ You have to build connections with people and form networks to get great things in the future. Just like what me and your father did. Who else do you know besides the people on your course? That’s not enough, you have to branch out!”

“Mum,” said Minho pointedly. He wasn’t about delve into the intricacies of his social life with his parents. “If I relax, I won’t pass the year. I barely scraped past first year.”

“Your scrape got you in the top ten,” rebutted his mother, “All that studying won’t get you a promotion.”

 _Being a doctor is different._ Minho wanted to protest but brick walls didn’t have ears so it would be pointless to try.

“It’s good you’re working hard,” said Minho’s father, “but you can’t be a doctor if you’re not healthy yourself.”

“Okay, okay,” muttered Minho, chivvying his parents towards the door. “I’ll come home for the Christmas holidays.”

“You better not forget to call us every week!” said Minho’s mother accusingly. “We need updates on how you’re doing.”

“I won’t!” Minho almost rolled his eyes but caught himself in time. He waved goodbye to his parents and shut the door, finally able to be alone. The remnants of his mother’s perfume faded to nothing and he breathed in, watching the sun illuminate the wisps of dust dancing across the living room. 

He wasn’t the social top-of-the-food-chain extraordinaire he was in high school. University was a place Minho was thankful to be faceless and forgotten, where the students didn’t form a large swarming hive that kept tabs on his every movement. It was time to put good golden days behind him, but his mother demanded this stage of his life kept him on the shining platform, within sight of all the judging gazes.

Before, him and Hyunjin were known literally as ‘The Golden Duo’. Their presence had the power to make girls within a wide radius giggle uncontrollably. The girls wanted them and the boys wanted to be them. It was stereotypical, it was cliched but it was the norm.

In their last year, there was the Fight. It wasn’t a singular explosive battle but actually encompassed several smaller fights that blew up in their faces and severed a bond fourteen years strong. After the fight, Hyunjin had found a new group of friends and the seven of them became a group.

Most of Minho’s time had been spent instead with his girlfriend Jeongyeon and reluctantly hanging out with her friends, until they broke up halfway through his first year, having gone to different universities. It had been a messy entanglement that Minho tried not to dwell on.

“Our relationship doesn’t matter to you anymore, does it?” accused Jeongyeon. “You always say you’re busy and you never call or message me unless I do it first. Even then, you don’t always reply.”

“My grades are really important though!” Minho had shot back. “I’m trying my best but I’m busy. I don’t have time to take time off!”

Jeongyeon didn’t take it well. She was normally quite passive and it kept their lives peaceful. That was one of the things Minho appreciated about her. Jeongyeon wasn’t high maintenance, she was easily satisfied, until she wanted more. More things that Minho couldn’t give. Or was unwilling to. It didn’t matter now.

“When you love someone, if you don’t have time, you _make_ time!” she’d shouted and that had been when everything collapsed. Minho had not stopped himself shouting back, letting his temper take over and long story short, they weren’t on speaking terms anymore.

Maybe Minho had been lying to himself for a while, perhaps he hadn’t been in love with Jeongyeon for a long time. Jeongyeon wasn’t the cause of the anger he’d yelled back with, which made him all the more guilty. But all good things came to an end, surely?

Or had pressure silently built itself up brick by brick ever since that night—

Minho slammed the door of his wardrobe shut with unnecessary force.

Ironically, Hyunjin and his new group of friends had all been accepted to the same prestigious university as Minho, though thank god none were on his course. Occasionally he’d see glimpses of them on campus but dart away before eye contact could be made.

If Hyunjin told them about the Fight, there was no doubt they’d side with Hyunjin. Minho reckoned to himself they all hated him. None of them were close to him in high school either besides Chan, who had been the captain of the football team Minho was on. The only person who he’d talked to a little in Hyunjin’s group was Jisung, that loudmouthed guy who was always being piggybacked by Chan. But Jisung always seemed to be talking, to anybody and everybody.

No matter how much Minho convinced himself he was fine, it didn’t manifest in reality. The world was weary, stale, and flat to him despite his efforts. He went to parties; he went drinking and he tried his best in class but it wasn’t enough for him. Most frustrating of all, he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Only the tip of the iceberg peeked out from the ocean, the rest of his rawest, innermost thoughts hidden beneath the freezing water. You couldn’t see past the murky surface with Minho. He wouldn’t let anyone. He didn’t even let himself.

Was it because he missed Hyunjin? Jeongyeon? Having actual friends he could confide in? Minho chuckled out a little at the last one.

Either way, every day something invisible gnawed hungrily at his insides, making Minho emptier day by day. By the end of his first year, Minho resembled a shell of his high school self, hollow but opaque, painted and decorated brightly with lively colours.

He wasn’t a scholar who chained himself to his desk, burning the midnight oil every day. But Minho was going through the motions of life, emptying his cup because the person next to him did, dancing because his classmates were, laughing because everyone else found the joke funny.

Well, _new year new me_ , thought Minho sarcastically. He checked the flat top to bottom, making sure it was spotless for that great impression his parents banged on about and finally let himself flop onto his bed and skim through his phone.

For starters, Minho would try and get along with his flatmate. From what he’d heard, a bad flatmate made your life hell. The effect on your quality of life was quite extreme.

Minho had applied for a university housing scheme so that he knew his flatmate would be someone who went to the same university, not a random stranger who had crawled out of the woodwork. There was a new message from his flatmate on his phone. They were supposed to be arriving this evening but now they’d arrive tomorrow evening, a day before term began.

Well, it was their loss if they got less time to settle down and unpack, Minho thought. His flatmate didn’t sound bad – at least their degree wasn’t something ridiculously niche, like Puppetry. Never mind. Minho didn’t think the university even offered that.

Due to his parents’ nagging, Minho had even stalked them on social media to learn more about their background (and whether his mother would approve) but nothing came up under their name.

The housing provider had told him his flatmate’s name and gave him their number. Hong Jisoo, someone a year above him and studying English Literature. The only place Minho had found his name online was in a list of the members of the church choir. A little unexpected, but everyone had their quirks.

Minho replied to the message, telling Jisoo it was no problem. For now he’d go review the contents of the lectures for the beginning of term. He had to stay ahead of everyone.

*

“Did your flatmate reply?” asked Changbin, dangling upside down on Jisung’s bunk bed. His dark hair was contrasted with his face, which was slowly turning pink as the blood rushed down to his head.

“Oh yeah,” said Jisung, “Literally right after I sent it.” He respected that, someone who kept up with their affairs. Or they were addicted to their phone like Jisung was.

“Who is it again?” Changbin launched himself off the top bunk, flipping through the air and landing neatly on his feet. It was an impressive trick he’d learned from all these years sleeping over at Jisung’s.

“Um…” Jisung switched his phone on again to check the contact he’d saved as his flatmate. “Someone called Lee Minhyung. Apparently, they’re an international student.”

“You’re so unlucky,” snickered Changbin. “You’re stuck with a total stranger.”

The rest of Jisung’s friends were rooming with each other. Hyunjin and Jeongin, Chan and Changbin were all together and in the same building too. It was ridiculously unfair. Only Seungmin was rooming with a stranger as well, but his flatmate was _the_ Wonpil who was famous across campus for being in a band Day6, for which Jisung was green with envy.

At least Minhyung was studying something music related. If they had absolutely nothing in common, they could talk about school. Jisung suppressed a shudder at the notion of being flatmates with someone taking a stodgy degree like Medicine or Law (no offence to Seungmin). Seungmin was devilishly smart but he was pretty uptight otherwise and a terrible person to live with.

Always nagging me and telling me to clean up, Jisung thought. Not a moment of peace.

A stranger wasn’t much better though. Getting past the awkward stage and learning each other’s boundaries and tiptoeing around each other, trying not to piss them off…

Well, it was a new year and Jisung was trying his best to stay optimistic. Even if him and Minhyung became sworn enemies, he could deal with anything as long as his friends were at his side.

There was a loud series of crunches as Changbin began to devour Jisung’s snacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter!  
> Remember, updates are weekly! So subscribe if you wanna, I guess...  
> If I've been doing this whole writing thing well, it should be obvious that there's a bit of a mix-up between Minsung right now but if you didn't pick up on that, I am so sorry.
> 
> Also, Minho is a medical student because 1. I'm a medical student 2. I think he'd make a brilliant doctor too :D
> 
> love  
> besthonestliar x


	2. Let the Demon Sing Me a Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who needs a theme park-” slurred Minho to himself as the room spun like he was on a carousel, “-when you can DIY at home?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw at the end of the chapter, so please scroll down to check in case anything in the chapter may trigger you.

On the day Jisoo was meant to arrive, Minho decided to go to a party. Yes, it would have been better manners to be there to greet Jisoo and help him get settled in but Minho simply couldn’t be bothered. It was a shared home and Minho decided there was no need to play the host. It wasn’t like it was his house. He’d settled himself in just fine. He was sure Jisoo could manage without him.

Besides, him and Jisoo would inevitably meet sooner or later. Minho could afford to delay it for one night. One of his classmates Jun had messaged him about a ‘re-freshers’ party which was being held at a place belonging to a huge group of his friends. This was what his parents wanted, wasn’t it? For Minho to go and find more friends.

All twelve of Jun’s friends rented a giant house together and were basically an unofficial fraternity. Minho always enjoyed free booze (alcohol was _not_ cheap) so he rarely turned down such invites. Parties were also where he thrived. People would talk and talk away but end up saying nothing of any substance. Parties were full of superficial interactions and strangers who you’d never meet again. For someone like Minho who enjoyed going up to random people, it was an ideal place to relax.

After what he deemed an adequate amount of revision, Minho set off. He still didn’t understand why Jun’s friends called themselves Seventeen when there were thirteen of them. Maybe he could get to the bottom of that this evening.

He heard the party before he saw it. Distant bass thumped in his eardrums and the shouts and chatter of drunk students slowly became audible as Minho walked along the dimly lit street. The house itself appeared to be a legitimate mansion, with ivy cloaking the bricks in a way that was a tad over the top. There was even a long driveway that Minho walked up in awe, taking in the pillars and huge wooden doors ahead of him.

“Minho!” yelled Jun from the balcony. He was waving hard with both hands when he stumbled and nearly pitched head-first off the balcony. If his friend hadn’t pulled him back in time, Jun would have spent the night in a nice hospital bed. “Come up here!”

Minho stepped through the open double doors to find even more people crammed in the living room than the front garden, packed like sardines. Making a face at the mingled scent of sweat and alcohol, he squeezed himself through the mass of people towards the stairs.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered. “Is the whole campus here?”

Upstairs there were less people milling about but there were plenty of shut doors with questionable noises emitting from them. Two people pushed past him, ready to rip the clothes off each other. They stumbled into an empty room and toppled on the bed inside. Minho pried the door shut gingerly with his sleeves before he saw anything worse and to give them some privacy, even if the couple didn’t seem too fussy about who saw.

When he finally found the room with the balcony Jun greeted him from, Jun had already disappeared. It wasn’t empty though; he could make out the blurry outlines of a few people. Minho immediately stepped back and hid himself when he saw who was there – it was Chan and Felix.

“Is everyone else coming?” Felix was saying to Chan. Minho allowed himself to sneak a peek at the two. They’d both dyed their hair blond. Chan’s shoulders had broadened hugely over the summer and it looked like Felix hadn’t covered up his freckles like he used to. Minho wondered whether he should chance it and say hi.

No, that was completely out of the question, even if it was tempting. Minho reminded himself they probably hated him.

He wasn’t drunk enough to go through with it either. Chan and Felix sounded sober too. It was a bad, bad idea. Minho crouched down next to the wall, decorated with traditional William Morris patterns and considered. Mm, he should go and find friends he actually knew or make some new ones.

With that in mind, he decided to head back downstairs and grab a drink. Someone walked past him, bumping his shoulder roughly. Minho wheeled around to tell them off – the corridor was wide enough for three people, then paused when the person headed to room with Chan and Felix.

Minho walked back to the room stealthily, avoiding all the creaking floorboards to spy on them.

His nose wrinkled when Chan bounced happily over to the man and planted a soppy kiss on him. Felix grimaced at the sight. He wasn’t the only one.

“Hyunwoo, you’re here!” said Chan delightedly.

Since when had Chan had a _boyfriend_? Minho took a step back to make his leave when the floorboard let out a piercing squeak. He cursed the blasted thing. All three people in the room turned their heads in the direction of the sound.

Not bothering to glance behind, Minho made a run for it. He dived through the nearest open door, threw open the wardrobe and jumped inside, pulling the doors shut. He heard footsteps tread pass in the corridor and held his breath as they got louder, into the room he was hiding in.

“There was definitely someone eavesdropping,” Minho heard Chan speaking worriedly. “But why would they?”

“Don’t worry, Chris,” said this Hyunwoo person and once the footsteps retreated, Minho allowed himself to exhale with relief.

Chan was gay. Huh. That was news to Minho. He would’ve never guessed that.

_But you would’ve never guessed Hyunjin was gay either._

Yeah, well. Neither of them _seemed_ gay. They didn’t match the gay people Minho saw on television or the ones his parents brought up at dinner disapprovingly. Neither of them were effeminate or spoke with ridiculously high voices and exaggerated gestures. It puzzled Minho that they could just have this side to them, with no other indications.

This was exactly why gay people made him uncomfortable. Minho didn’t have anything _against_ them, they could do want they want but… _just don’t do it in front of me! Don’t drag me into it!_

Fuck, every time it got shoved in his face, it would always stick in his mind and drive him crazy. It just irked him somewhere deep under his skin, like an old wound that never got the opportunity to heal, the scab always reopened.

Seeing gay people made Minho think about them. About men liking men. He vehemently hated it because it grossed him out so immensely Minho couldn’t deal with it. He wasn’t gay and he didn’t want to be gay but it felt like thinking about the subject would somehow contaminate his thoughts, that he would convince himself he was gay, when he wasn’t at all. His traitorous mind wouldn’t listen, supplying images of Chan and Hyunwoo doing things he didn’t want to think about.

What better was there to get things off his mind than drowning himself in alcohol? Minho emerged from the closet he’d been hiding in with a renewed purpose.

As soon as he stepped out of the room, another crazy couple waltzed past him into it but this time Minho was fed up and slammed the door shut behind him. He caught a split-second glimpse of them breaking apart as the hinges scraped on the floor and felt a sense of sadistic satisfaction.

Downstairs, Minho was glad to see the sea of people in the living room were trickling into the back garden so he could actually walk around without being pressed to someone’s side. Currently the karaoke machine was in use and was being dominated by a group of people drunk off their asses, wailing out high notes unashamedly.

As someone’s voice broke unexpectedly, Minho plonked himself in the kitchen and started to destroy his liver. This was turning out to be a rather depressing party. He didn’t feel like talking anymore and he couldn’t find the people he knew.

The beer wasn’t taking him any further than tipsy so Minho started making mixers because they could go down easier than hard spirits alone. Shots were disgusting. If he was going to get smashed, it wouldn’t be by choking them down.

A few people tried to approach him but Minho kept his eyes on the huge selection of drinks crowding the table, hands clutching his glass protectively. Rum and coke, tequila and lemonade, vodka and cranberry juice; he’d gone through quite a few combinations when he finally stood up and swayed so far to the right he was forced to plop back down onto his chair. The walls of the kitchen swayed the opposite direction.

It was about at this point Minho’s ability to form words flew straight out the window. If someone talked to him, they’d probably think he was speaking a different language.

Ha. He could totally invent a new language. What would he call it? Mi-min-minholss-

_Hnnngh…I feel so weoirfdkbjlkjv_

Minho frowned and tried to assemble his thoughts into something coherent but it was too much effort.

_Tomorrow…ahhhh a loooong word, smart…so clever…w-what what do I to do tomorrow todorrow? Modorrow?_

Gosh, his thoughts were hilarious. Minho roared with laughter to himself, earning a few odd glances from people around him, but he was so drunk he couldn’t care less.

He could totally be a stand-up comedian.

_But standing is too hard right now._

He nodded sagely at the people around him as if about to deliver great advice.

_I can be a sit-down comedian instead._

This cracked him up so much Minho was positively screaming with mirth, wheezing at his own brilliance. The space between him and the other people in the kitchen increased considerably.

Snatching a few bottles of whatever (his vision was too spotty to read the labels), Minho stumbled to his feet, feeling the room swing side to side like he was on a fairground ride. The first thing on his agenda was to get drunker, because some of his thoughts were starting to make sense again.

Like that one voice telling him he had a morning lecture the next day. It sounded suspiciously like his mother.

“Who needs a theme park-” slurred Minho to himself as the room spun like he was on a carousel, “-when you can DIY at home?”

It was nothing short of a miracle that Minho made it up the stairs without breaking his neck, arms laden with half empty bottles – half empty because he was a _pessimist._ Someone stopped him to ask if he was alright, concerned about the man who was plastered to hell and back but Minho impatiently waved him off with ‘I’m fiiiiine’. Minho didn’t bother to look at the unconvinced expression on their face and kicked open the first door he saw upstairs, unsteady as a baby deer.

Not two but _three_ people were on the bed.

“Out!” hollered Minho with drunken rage, not bothered in the slightest. “Go have your threesome somewhere else!” He wasn’t sure if there were actually three people or not…if he squinted it seemed like three but it also looked like six people?

When they realised Minho wasn’t budging, the threesomers (?) hurried out the room, looking extremely pissed off.

Minho collapsed onto the carpet and set his precious drinks on the ground in a row in front of him, as straight as he could manage it.

“I am not touching that bed,” he said determinedly to himself. Minho grabbed the nearest bottle and started swigging it. He would finish this row of bottles by tonight. One by one they emptied. It was quite satisfying.

No thoughts, head blissfully empty, any thoughts of what he’d seen earlier completely erased, Minho stretched out on the carpet. Perhaps if Minho drank enough, he could forget he even witnessed the whole thing.

Half an hour, his solo drinking session was interrupted by polite knocking. Minho had gotten sick of drinking and had abandoned his bottles for rolling around on the carpet, groaning indiscriminately for no particular reason.

He got on all fours and crawled to the door, opening it. Chan was standing outside holding a phone. Oh. His phone.

“I think you left it downstairs. Um, I recognised it from the lock-screen.” said Chan apologetically, pressing it into Minho’s hand. The lock-screen was of his family because he loved them _so_ very much. It showed his filial piety and undying dedication to them. It showed the world he was his parent’s bootlicker.

The phone dropped out of Minho’s grip and bounced onto the carpet. Chan braved on with the one-sided conversation.

“Long time no see though…I didn’t know you were studying here.”

Minho sobered up enough to pick his phone back up and nod weakly in response. He staggered past Chan, who stared, till he saw a bathroom and locked the door. His bladder was about to explode.

Mildly refreshed – as refreshed as he could get, Minho wanted to retrieve his bottles and keep going. His phone told him he’d been here about three hours.

He rediscovered the room he’d been languishing in because of the bottles in the corner, except someone was in there now, chucking the empty bottles into a black trash bag.

“Hey, were you drinking here?” The stranger straightened up, knees cracking loudly and on a closer look, wasn’t as sober as Minho thought. The man gestured at himself. “I’m just trying to make sure my friends’ rooms don’t get destroyed. I don’t want them destroyed.”

“That’s nice,” said Minho, suddenly regaining the ability to speak. It was nice to be a helpful drunk. Unlike Minho, who turned into a dumbass. “I’m sorry.” He swept his hands towards the remaining bottles.

“Want help?” Without waiting for an answer, Minh knelt down to grope at the carpet and swiped his hands around. His palm collided with an open bottle and it tipped downwards, about to spill. Minho tried to catch it but his hands closed around thin air.

“No!” gasped the stranger and with insane reflexes, appeared behind Minho and steadied the bottle before its contents hit the carpet. They were in some weird crouching position, the stranger practically hugging Minho from behind as they squatted. He could feel their body heat radiating through his shirt.

“That was lucky,” Minho turned his head in the direction of their voice and found himself nose to nose with the stranger. He had soft, rounded features and wide eyes that only widened further at the sudden proximity.

“I’m so sorry,” said the stranger stumbling away from him. “I didn’t mean invade your personal space.” Minho eyed the bottle and picked it up successfully this time, downing its contents.

He found himself striding towards him. The other guy was a lot taller than him so he only reached their shoulders.

“I don’t mind,” he found himself saying, placing a hand on the stranger, squeezing their bicep gently. Minho wondered what his brain was doing.

“O- _oh_ ,” said the stranger, understanding in his voice. They both stepped (staggered) forwards till they were chest to chest. A strange tingling was running through Minho and every bone in his body was telling him to fucking run and get the hell away.

Cool hands cupped Minho’s face. “What’s your name?” the stranger asked, staring hungrily at Minho’s lips.

“Minho,” said Minho shakily. He didn’t know why he was in this situation. Part of him wanted to run but his body was rooted to the spot.

“I’m Joshua,” replied the stranger. Joshua lowered his head as Minho tilted his upwards.

It was like Minho was turning into jelly. His knees went slack for a moment as they kissed furiously and he clutched Joshua’s shoulders to stay up. Joshua’s shoulders were broad and firm with muscle.

_Don’t even ask. I don’t even know._

They both tasted like alcohol. Hands fumbled through hair, caressing and stroking, slipping underneath shirts and slowly they were stepping closer and closer to the bed Minho had sworn not to touch. That promise seemed miles away.

All the stimulation was making Minho dizzy. He felt sickened but he couldn’t stop himself running his hands down Joshua’s back, all the way down to grope at Joshua’s ass. Minho was the one who deepened the kiss, the first one to press his tongue at Joshua’s lips, asking for entrance.

God, he was dizzy with nausea. The pads of rough fingers slipped around Minho’s waist – he knew he should stop, he shouldn’t be doing this…it was only because Minho was drunk. He did stupid things when he was drunk. His stomach swirled uneasily and a burning feeling rose in his throat.

“Fuck!” gasped Minho. He broke away from Joshua and threw open the door, eyes blinded by the lights and kicked open the bathroom door then hunched over the toilet as his nausea relieved itself in the form of vomiting.

*

Jisung opened the door of the flat with his newly retrieved keys. There had been an incredible struggle with the receptionist to get them due to their sloppy organisation and her insistence that Jisung didn’t match the photo in his passport. He snorted at the memory. It was already dark outside and pitch black inside the flat. All the lights were off. It looked like Minhyung had gone out.

It took a while to haul his suitcases and boxes up and he took several trips up and down the elevator. After all that physical activity, Jisung was about to drop dead from exhaustion.

The room at the end of the bedroom looked it had already been taken by Minhyung, but to his great delight, the other bedroom was slightly bigger. Jisung grinned to himself.

_Looks like Minhyung is a decent guy._

Jisung knew he should go to sleep…but his mum wasn’t here to nag at him and Jisung was a _rebel._

At two in the morning, Jisung was squeezing the face of his bunny plushie till it was horribly contorted, holding his breath and snuggled deep under his covers as he watched children trying not to become monster food. There was nothing quite as fun as watching anime late at night.

There was some commotion at the door, suggesting Minhyung must have gotten back from wherever he’d gone. Jisung only registered this vaguely in the back of his mind, far too preoccupied with the horror sequence playing on his laptop.

*

Minho was pale as death and hanging off Joshua’s sturdy frame as he unlocked the door to his flat, hands unsteady as he fumbled around with his keys, trying to shove the key into the keyhole.

He was trashed beyond belief. After ripping himself off Joshua and emptying the contents of his stomach, Minho had sobered up…but too much. Sober enough to realise he had fucked up big time.

What the fuck was he doing? That was when he’d marched (well, tried to march) downstairs and went back to loading himself up on drinks despite a number of people trying to convince him not to.

Within an hour, Minho had gone back to watching the room spin around him. For some reason, Joshua insisted on helping him get home, saying he didn’t live far from Minho’s place. What a gentleman. What a way to make Minho feel useless.

“I don’t need help,” That was what Minho had insisted the entire way back, breaking free of Joshua’s grip every now and again only to trip over both feet and faceplant into a bush.

“Sure,” Joshua had replied sardonically.

“Thank you very much,” said Minho as Joshua took pity on him and unlocked the door. “Uh…thank you, dude. You’re a pal.”

“Your phone,” sighed Joshua, sliding it into the back pocket of Minho’s jeans. “Good night. If you’re still interested just hit me up later.”

Minho hardly heard any of that and he nodded and mumbled a few words of thanks before slamming the door shut. Oh, he hadn’t walked in.

“Come on,” chided Joshua gently, arm encircled around Minho’s waist. “Which room is yours?”

Joshua acted as Minho’s crutch till they were at the door of Minho’s bedroom. Minho stumbled forwards jerkily like a zombie and collapsed onto his bed, instantly fast asleep.

It was not pretty when Minho’s phone buzzed five hours later at seven o’clock, the tune of his alarm cleaving into his head. The sun was like a giant death ray, set on wiping him from this planet.

_Fucking morning lectures._

After a few minutes of questioning his existence, Minho forced himself out of bed and blindly rattled through his drawers, looking for painkillers. He still felt a bit drunk. If it was a placement at the hospital, Minho would’ve had to take the day off. He couldn’t talk to patients when his eyes were this bloodshot.

However, he was a medical student. It wasn’t the first time he’d faced a morning class with a hangover. Although it had never been quite this bad.

_How much did I even drink?_

He patted his stomach and said ‘fighting!’ to his liver, which was evidently doing a grand job and decided to skip breakfast, doubtful he could keep it down.

Last night was rather vague in his mind. It seemed he’d blacked out and some kind friend had taken him home. It was like watching a DVD but nearly the whole film had been blurred and censored. Minho could make out small snatches – he remembered seeing Felix and Chan when he was sober…and what was it? Hyunwoo? Chan’s _boyfriend_.

Oh yeah. What a sight for sore eyes. His football team captain, gay. What came after was limited – he could recall mixing some drinks, wandering around one hell of a mansion, but not much else.

Minho sighed heavily. At least his phone wasn’t blowing up with notifications. He hadn’t been tagged in any obscene pictures online so at least nothing scandalous could have happened.

He passed the closed door of the second bedroom. Rumbling snores could be heard as he pressed his ear to the door. Jisoo must have arrived last night. He didn’t want to wake the guy so Minho tiptoed to the door, backpack slung over his shoulders and left for his class.

*

When Jisung woke up, he could feel the dried tear tracks on his cheeks from crying at the ending of the anime last night.

His phone read one in the afternoon. Jisung whooped with relief. He hadn’t missed his composition workshop! There was still time to kill so he flopped back onto the bed, no longer in a rush…only to doze off again.

That was why Jisung was currently being roasted by his supervisor for turning up half an hour after the class began. The studio where his composition was held was soundproof, but it was so soundproof you could hardly hear anyone outside it.

Jisung had eventually been threatened by an angry admin worker as he banged and screamed at the door for someone to let him in. He’d only been saved when Chan had glanced away from the Powerpoint to see Jisung being dragged away by the back of collar and had opened the door for him.

“It won’t happen again, ma’am,” said Jisung brightly. His professor only sighed and set him an extra piece of work. She’d taught him in his first year so she knew Jisung frankly sucked at keeping promises like that.

Whatever. It wasn’t like the extra work would affect Jisung. His only plans after was heading to a recording room and snatching the newest equipment for himself and writing till he dropped.

He’d assumed Chan would do the same, or even join him in his artistic frenzy.

“I would but…” Chan hesitated and tucked a stray blond curl behind his ear. It immediately sprung back out. “Hyunwoo won’t let me. Something about changing my sleep schedule so it’s more _normal._ ”

There was a fearful undertone in Chan’s voice. Jisung was about to protest and try and convince Chan to come with him but dropped it for the greater good. Chan had been a sleep-deprived mess during first year so if Hyunwoo was prepared to whip him into shape, who was Jisung to stop him?

Jisung threw his bag on the table and made sure the door was definitely shut before he started on what they’d been set this afternoon. He was going to begin this year productively and not procrastinate. He was not going to end up with less than twelve hours of sleep during the week of finals.

Jisung shivered at the memory.

A mere half hour later, Jisung kicked the table as hard as he could in frustration, then hopped around the room clutching his foot as pain exploded in his big toe.

The way Jisung composed music was coming up with about eight versions of something in one hour than discarding most it, usually coming up with something new in the end.

Right now, all of his ideas sucked. Boring. Predictable. Cliched.

 _I give in._ Jisung stretched and listened to his joints click. He would stay up till he got at least one idea that wasn’t total shit.

“I’ll work on it at home,” said Jisung aloud, to make his plan more concrete.

His stomach gurgled in protest. Oh yeah, he hadn’t eaten since nearly twenty-four hours ago. The only food in the fridge were side dishes and Jisung did not have the heart for convenience store food, as tasty as it was, because he knew it would be his main diet for the rest of the year.

A plan formulated in his head. How about asking Minhyung out to dinner? They were bound to meet soon because Jisung had a general lecture tomorrow that all comp students had to attend but he’d rather break the ice before that.

It was a bit nerve-wracking but Jisung wrote Minhyung a text that he read through a few times before sending, asking to meet up at the ramen place near their accommodation.

Either way, Jisung was set on going there, alone or with Minhyung. The ramen place was literally heaven and he loved the miso tonkotsu tsukemen they served. He nearly salivated imagining the thick springy noodles enrobed with rich umami broth and the melt-in-the-mouth chashu slices…

That was it. He headed out the building, speed-walking to his dream dinner. His phone buzzed in his pocket and Jisung assumed it was a reply from Minhyung, agreeing to meet him. He didn’t care that much if it wasn’t. All he was thinking about was the outrageous food porn of yolk dripping out of soft-boiled eggs marinated in soy sauce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *contains vomiting, homophobia*
> 
> NOTE: originally W**jin was in this fic but after the news, I decided to erase his character and it doesn't affect the story at all. I just replaced him with Shownu (Son Hyunwoo) instead.
> 
> I quite like how this chapter turned out and this fic will tend to explore how Minho is shaped by the things around him and how they affect his personality and actions. 
> 
> Of course, it was lovely to throw in Seventeen.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed,  
> besthonestliar x


	3. Waiting for the Day to Pass By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung's adventures continue...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, this is two days late because I just started at uni so I was busy! Next update will still be Tuesday though :)

The ramen place was already full to the brim with students when Jisung lifted the curtain to enter, greeted by the delightful aroma of savoury broth. It was fitted with traditional Japanese decor with separate little booths with curtains for people who were not here to socialise. Jisung tiptoed past each of them, peering through the slits at the side nosily. No one his age was inside, it was just middle-aged business workers.

He eyed the rows of long tables which were set out for a more communal dining experience. A few people glanced over at him but their face betrayed no signs of recognition. Jisung began to wonder if Minhyung had even agreed to come but his phone was right at the bottom of his bag, beneath his folder and laptop. Well, there was an easier way to find out.

“Lee Minhyung?” called Jisung loudly, over the hubbub of chatter.

A washed-out boy with high arched brows that etched a permanent expression of surprise on his face lifted his hand uncertainly as if confused about his own identity. There was already a bowl of half-finished noodles in front of him.

Jisung called his order to the chef who acknowledged him with a nod (that was how this place worked), then sat on the seat across from Minhyung.

“I’m Jisung,” he said by way of explanation.

Minhyung continued slurping, then lifted the bowl with both hands, emptied it in one gulp, and slammed it back down onto the wooden table. His vitality returned with each slurp and he began to look more alive than before.

“Yo, wassup!” exclaimed Minhyung brightly, holding a hand out for Jisung to shake. “Just call me Mark.”

Minhyung, now Mark, squinted suspiciously at Jisung. “Do I know you?”

Jisung gulped. He felt mildly insulted but that was overshadowed by confusion with how he could continue the conversation. Had Mark not even bothered to learn his name? The name of his own flatmate? Well, that made things awkward.

Then Mark’s eyes lit up with realisation. There wasn’t much difference between him and a baby lion at that moment. Jisung’s stomach gurgled furiously but it got hidden in the chatter. He wished his food would hurry up and arrive.

“We’re taking the same course, aren’t we? I take Music Comp.” said Mark. “You’re _that_ Jisung.”

“That Jisung?” Jisung didn’t think his reputation as a handsome, talented genius had spread that far around campus.

“I know another Jisung…Park Jisung, he’s in the dance society?”

A gangly baby-faced boy in Jisung’s class from high school came to mind but he dismissed that thought quickly. It would be too coincidental for that Jisung to be here. Park Jisung was a common name.

“And you’re lowkey famous!” breathed Mark in awe. The waitress dropped a new bowl in front of him with an indulgent smile. Jisung didn’t reply because he'd realised with envy that Mark had two extra chashu slices.

“You…you’re J.One, aren’t you?” Jisung flamed crimson and shushed Mark. He hadn’t realised the music students knew about 3Racha because he’d taken extra care to never mention it. Yes, their Soundcloud was publicly accessible but Jisung didn’t want the whole campus listening to him saying ‘Hey noona, do you have a boyfriend’. Although his voice was a pretty big giveaway if people stumbled across it. But it’d been squeaky and prepubescent at the time! Fuck, maybe Chan or Changbin leaked the secret.

“Oh, am I wrong?” Mark interrupted Jisung’s internal turmoil. “You’re in that 3Racha group on Soundcloud, right?”

Mark even went to the length of pulling up the page on his phone, waving it around carelessly for prying eyes to see. No one was giving them the time of day, but Jisung was still jumpy about someone happening to see the webpage. He snatched Mark’s phone out his hands and pressed the power off button. Mark looked bemused.

“I am, but it’s embarrassing when you bring it up like that,” hissed Jisung, handing it back. Their songs had quite a few listens but Jisung hadn’t a clue how Mark sussed it was him. His real name wasn’t even there.

Mark burst out laughing and his eyebrows curved into perfect parabolas. Jisung scrunched his face up, mystified because nothing remotely funny had happened. Mark was literally screaming with laughter, his eyebrows scraping his hairline.

“AHAHAHAHAHA!” Mark threw his head back as if gathering his energy then projected his laughter in a huge explosion.

His laugh was also incredibly infectious. Within seconds, they were both laughing like idiots and a vicious cycle began. Every time Mark laughed, Jisung started again and when they both stopped, one of them would make eye contact and the giggles would begin.

“You’re hilarious, dude!” said Mark, after they came down from their high. Luckily for them, it was so loud in the restaurant, they didn’t add much to the noise pollution.

“But really, how did you know?” said Jisung. “Are you a stalker or something?”

Mark scratched the back of his neck in contemplation as if he were about to tell a very complicated and long-winded story.

“Someone my friend Chenle knows…from Jisung’s school…introduced him to your songs and then when Jisung heard Chenle play them, he realised it was you?”

It took about ten full seconds for Jisung to process the sentence, then another ten for him to actually understand it.

“Do you know who introduced your friend Chenle to it?” asked Jisung, wincing as he butchered the pronunciation horribly.

Mark made a constipated face and breathed out heavily. “Um…” He started counting on his fingers.

Jisung’s ramen arrived and for a minute, he was understandably distracted.

“Lee Felix!” exclaimed Mark suddenly. “That was it!”

Jisung sputtered and sprayed bits of noodle over the table and then some. A few strands landed in Mark’s hair, giving the man some new blond streaks. It looked like Mark hadn’t felt the warm dampness of noodles on his head. Jisung decided not to tell him out of pure mortification and prayed the other wouldn’t notice and that no one would be nice enough to point it out to Mark. Given enough time, perhaps the noodles would fall out naturally.

“Felix?” He managed hoarsely. “ _Yongbok?_ ”

“That’s so weird…we’re going to be spending the year together but our friends know each other.”

How the universe worked to produce this kind of mind-boggling shit never failed to amaze Jisung.

“Well, I saw you a lot during our first year but we didn’t really talk, did we?” Mark replied, looking confused by Jisung’s reply. “We have next year together too.”

“Next year?” said Jisung quizzically. He was sure they wouldn’t be sharing a flat anymore by then. “We’re together next year?”

“Uh, aren’t we?” said Mark, eyebrows furrowing adorably. Jisung just decided to go with the flow, he didn’t have the energy to ask questions.

Maybe Mark was bit tired or simply eccentric. Jisung probably acted the same after pulling an all-nighter to finish his homework.

After getting to know Mark better, the small talk became banter, and when only dregs of thick broth were left in the bowl, the restaurant was emptier and Jisung’s stomach bursting at the seams.

“It was really good talking to you,” said Mark. He still appeared bemused by the fact that Jisung was there. “But I actually had to meet up with someone after dinner.”

“Oh,” replied Jisung, slightly disappointed. He’d been hoping they could walk home together and engage in some homely bonding exercises like watching a movie together. “See you later, then.”

Well, his assignment wasn’t going to complete itself. Maybe he should be grateful Mark saved him from an evening of procrastination.

*

This was torture, thought Minho. How was it legal to have to sit in a lecture theatre for seven hours? His whole body was aching just from sitting in the same cramped seat which didn’t have enough legroom for a small child, let alone a fully-grown adult. There was only half an hour left till his final lecture (Pharmacology and Therapeutics) ended and the hand on the clock seemed to have slowed down to a snail’s pace. He’d given up on taking notes completely at this stage and was banking on the professor uploading the lecture online. Minho always went through the content of the lectures at the end of the day anyway.

The whole lecture marathon was already legal torture to begin with but on top of that, Minho was pushing through with a hangover. Despite being doped up on painkillers and caffeine tablets, there was still a persistent throbbing in his head that had plagued him throughout the day. He’d stayed hydrated and luckily hadn’t had to dash out the theatre to puke but yeah, he would be ecstatic to go home.

His phone had long since died, so Minho couldn’t even mess around on it to speed up the time left. His lives on Candy Crush should have refilled by now but he couldn’t even try to beat that level.

When the lecturer finally dismissed them, Minho was out the room as soon as ‘that’s all for today’ left the teacher’s lips, bent on getting home. He pushed his way out the row of seats, muttering several apologies, and was out the door in seconds.

It was with a heavy heart Minho made the fifteen-minute walk back to the apartment. It was early September but the sky was clouded over today and an irritating drizzle was gradually soaking him to the bone. Minho didn’t have the energy to speed his pace up to avoid the rain, as much as the droplets of water sliding down his face bothered him. Being in the rain felt like Minho was part of some shitty coming-of-age movie where the weather matched his pathetic life. His mind welcomed the pathetic fallacy but his body rejected it.

Ramen sounded good. And not of the gourmet variety. He was going to eat his way through three packets of spicy chicken ramen today and nothing would deter him. An overload of sodium and MSG and enough spice to bring tears to his eyes was just what he needed.

Maybe he could offer it to Jisoo if the fella was at the apartment right now. Then Minho would force himself to do some of the never-ending work piled onto him. ‘University is all about self-learning’ said the nagging voice of his parents. “It’s called reading for a degree’ echoed the professor. He wanted to die. If a spaceship flew by and zapped him out of existence, Minho would not have complained. No, he would have begged for them to aim at him.

His hangover had worn off a while ago but Minho was ridiculously tired and he had morning class again tomorrow. It would have to be an early night. His eyes hadn’t been more than half open since the afternoon.

Something was nagging at him, as if there was some assignment he’d forgotten to write down. It would probably hit him later in the evening if it really mattered.

Shaking the rain off himself, Minho shivered in the elevator up to his apartment, making a mental note to remember to check the weather forecast next time.

It was quiet and none of the lights were on so Minho figured Jisoo was out again. Maybe the guy was some kind of party animal or at least had a decent social life. Being a functioning member of society was never a bad trait to have. A tick on his checklist for ‘respectable friends’.

Just in case, Minho lightly knocked on the closed door of Jisoo’s room for any signs of life. He didn’t want to do something stupid, thinking he was alone, only for Jisoo to burst out and witness the whole spectacle, like getting naked. Although Minho couldn’t think of any reason as to why he would want to be naked right now.

There was no response. Not even a rustle. Maybe Jisoo was asleep.

He didn’t really want to keep putting it off, but they’d have to meet at some point, right? There was no way he could keep avoiding Jisoo for the entire semester like some unrealistic sitcom.

*

If a helicopter crashed into the apartment, Jisung wouldn’t have noticed. He was sitting in bed, huddled in his blankets, hunched over his notebook, noise-cancelling headphones blasting white noise. All he could hear was the sound of artificial rainfall, drowning out the sound of the actual rainstorm outside and the clattering of Minho as he made his ramen in the kitchen.

He frowned and scribbled out the first lyrics that came to mind.

_Maze of memories ahead of me, yeah_

_How can I move past these walls when they reflect my past, present, and future?_

_I’m transfixed to stop and stare_

_And bursting through my mind like a rushing waterfall_

_Are regrets that start piling like dead leaves_

_Lifeless ambitions coat the floor_

_What was my goal again?_

Jisung shook his head and grimaced, then turned to the next page of his notebook. Maybe he should save the emo lyrics for later and actually write for the theme of ‘love and war’ they’d been set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a transition chapter and finding out a bit more about them both but Mark is so lovely I couldn't resist keeping this part in the story. I guess the pace is starting slower this time but it's fun to switch up how I write haha.


	4. Something That Cannot Exist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see trigger warnings at the end of the chapter.

A week had passed since the re-freshers party. The gaps in Minho’s memories were bothering him but no amount of scrunching his face up and screaming into his pillow had helped. He’d mentioned it in passing to his parents on their weekly call and they’d seemed delighted he was already partying.

Minho had even sat in his bedroom, legs crossed, blinds shut, and scented candle lit and listened to a video called ‘recall your repressed memories hypnosis’, but it hadn’t been any use. A quick internet search informed him that there were two types of alcohol-induced blackout, one with fragmented memories and one where the hippocampus simply did no memory storage. Minho hoped it was the former because he could remember vague images from the night, but they were all out of context and disconnected.

Oddly enough, Minho still had no clue about Jisoo, not even his appearance. Conveniently, they’d just kept missing each other. They had texted and made plans to meet up but every time something came up like the deadline of an assignment or a social event they’d already promised to be at. Then there was how they operated on completely different schedules. When Minho left for his morning lectures, he could still hear Jisoo snoring from his room. When Minho came back during his free afternoons, Jisoo was out at lectures.

Jisoo hadn’t even slept at the apartment for most of the week. It didn’t seem like the flat was being lived in by another person. Each morning, Minho only saw his own dishes in the sink, his clothes in the bathroom, and his own food in the fridge.

Eventually, Jisoo had messaged Minho saying he was staying with a friend to work on a project. Minho became no stranger to long bouts of silence and had taken to playing white noise and classical music to try and reduce the emptiness of the apartment.

No amount of music could reduce the emptiness in his heart though. Every now and then when his mood drifted in a certain direction, Minho sat in his bed, leaning against the wall, gripping his phone tightly.

A message to Hyunjin or Chan would be drafted out, asking if they could meet again. Or in Hyunjin’s case, if Hyunjin could forgive Minho for what happened back in high school.

Minho would agonize for a few minutes, weighing the pros and cons in his mind and running through possible outcomes.

“Fuck this,” he’d then mutter and delete the message and chuck his phone aside.

Jeongyeon’s number was still saved in his phone too but while Minho hadn’t deleted it, he was content to let them remain as exes. Exes who weren’t on speaking terms. That was one mess he was willing to leave unfixed. Her disappointed stare still stuck with him to this day.

_*_

“Fuck you, Lee Minho!” hollered Hyunjin as he ran down the corridors.

Minho watched his retreating figure chase after Jeongin and stood limply in the middle of the corridor, the hot throbbing feeling in his nose signalling an oncoming nosebleed.

He felt bleak. There was no sense of victory. Just disgust, at the world, at himself, sitting sickly sweet on his tongue. Minho was a possessed man, all too weak to his flimsy urges.

Regret and guilt set like concrete in his veins. The blood ran down from his chin to the floor.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

He made his way numbly home, a trail of blood behind him, face painted scarlet. Only when his mother screamed at the sight of him did he realise his nose was broken.

It was the first day loneliness made Minho numb, but the loneliness wasn't new, no, it had begun long ago.

If not for Jeongyeon, Minho would not have made it through high school. 

*

The apartment was starting to resemble a pigsty. In trying to keep up with his studies, he’d sacrificed a healthy diet and sleep schedule…and the chores.

It wasn’t as bad as it sounded, he was studying _Medicine_ after all and understood basic nutrition. He wasn’t your stereotypical university student surviving off ramen, but he was eating it every other day. His risk of cancer had probably increased tenfold from all the chemical additives alone.

Either way, the layer of dust gathering on the floor wasn’t going to blow away in the wind, although chance would be a fine thing. Jisoo had hardly even been in the apartment so Minho figured it was on him to clean up his own mess. In the past few days, he’d used every single clean bowl and plate and there were about five piles of dirty dishes in varying states of decay scattered on the kitchen counter.It was like an unintentional science project measuring the progress of mould – 2 days, 5 days, 7 days. There was no more clean underwear left in his wardrobe, his sheets were unwashed and his pillow covered in loose hair.

Minho wielded the vacuum cleaner like a sword and got to work.

Four hours later, the apartment was nearly in the same state it had been on the first day of term. The floor was sparkling clean and several loads of laundry and dishwashing later, so was everything else. And Minho was nothing if not thorough, his parents never allowed a speck of dust anywhere.

The trash had been taken out and the bathroom scrubbed down. Minho was now in the process of organising his room when he opened his bottom bedside drawer and got the shock of his life.

There was an innocent scrap of paper inside. The not-so-innocent message scrawled prettily in blunt pencil on top made Minho let out a weird noise like he had accidentally swallowed a small goldfish.

_Hi, this is Josh from the party. You were really drunk so I helped you to your bed, that’s why your door is possibly unlocked, don’t be alarmed. It was cool meeting you. If you want to meet up again, my number’s here._

_If you don’t, that’s cool too. Maybe see you around?_

That was when it all came rushing back. A giant ‘oh shit’ moment that grew bigger and bigger until it exploded like a balloon overfilled with helium. His brain began to fill in the missing spaces in his memory, the note acting as some kind of flashback trigger.

_So this is what people mean when they say there are things you’re better off not knowing._

“Fuck,” said Minho out loud, releasing the paper and watching it flutter to the ground in a slow spiral. He’d seen Chan at the party with his _boyfriend._ Then Minho had proceeded to drink himself silly and then…

He didn’t even want to think the words but they pushed themselves to the forefront of his mind. He’d made out with some guy named Joshua. For pretty much no reason at all.

Minho didn’t get it. He was just a normal heterosexual dude; he had freaking receipts. Jeongyeon had been his girlfriend for over a year and Minho had never felt like he was forcing it, he knew he was attracted to her. Why would he randomly snog some dude at a party?

Was it because Joshua was the first person he’d seen? Maybe his drunk self was an insatiable sex demon, latching onto anyone that came into view. Heat rose in his cheeks as he remembered the sensations, how it had felt so…Disgusting. It was fucking disgusting. Even the thought left an unpleasant taste in his mouth because it felt so wrong.

Minho trudged to the living room and collapsed onto the sofa, afraid to see the paper on the floor again, as if it would bite him if he went near it. He wasn’t going to take up Joshua’s offer in a million years.

God. It was a lot to take in. Minho knew he wasn’t into men. He just didn’t enjoy debating with himself on his sexuality, so he pushed it to the back of his mind, locking those ideas back in a chain-bound chest. It just made him feel so weird.

Gay people could do whatever they wanted, that was fine with Minho. It was just that he wasn’t part of that group of people. It was what he’d tried to tell Hyunjin long ago.

He tried to see the logic in things. It was normal to do things you regretted when drunk. It was just like…hooking up with an ugly girl you’d never be caught dead with sober. This was pretty much the same thing.

Minho pressed his sweaty palm to his forehead as if to ease the battle inside. It almost worked until a stray thought broke free.

_Again._

Minho groaned and blinked rapidly. Nothing fucking worked to clear out the voices talking to him, shoving things in his eyes that he didn’t want to see. He breathed heavily out his nose, trying to keep his breaths steady as his heartbeat ramped up.

It felt like an elephant was standing on his chest, forcing his heart to shoot its way up his windpipe to his mouth. Any coherent thought was hidden among a thicket of white mist and all Minho could feel were his own shallow breaths drying out the back of his throat and mouth.

He finally gasped out loud, swallowing a lungful of air and willed the stinging in his nose to go away, the one that meant he was about to cry.

Minho didn’t understand why he felt as if the walls of the living room were closing on him so he sat painfully hunched, elbows digging into his knees, neck and back cramped and tried to calm himself down but his heart was tapdancing in his throat and blood pounding so hard in his ears he could scarcely hear himself breathe.

He let out a whimper. He was being pathetic.

_What are you doing, what are you doing? Get a fucking grip._

“I’m trying,” he mumbled to himself, eyelids fluttering. He could feel all his life’s problems nagging and nudging at him, each begging, demanding his attention, stretching him in too many directions at once. Hyunjin, his parents, his grades, the party, down to the little things like the socks on the floor, the wilting potted plant and the fact he was about to have a mental breakdown.

“I’m _trying,_ ” choked Minho. He wiped the stupid tears rolling down his cheeks. He was goddamn trying, wasn’t that enough?

But he was so scared. Everything felt scary and sinister and Minho wanted to leave the apartment and get out, go outside. In an unhelpful contradiction, the fear kept him rooted to the spot, unable to move.

He didn’t want to do this anymore. Any of it. Too many problems stacked ten feet tall ahead of him.

Minho clenched his fists, letting his nails dig into the flesh of his palms and the pain broke him away, offering a welcome distraction.

*

Jisung was dead on his feet. He was a dead man walking. Even a zombie looked more alive than him.

“You look ready for a grave,” Felix told him solemnly as Jisung absent-mindedly put on his trainers, only slipping his feet into them like slippers.

He gave a non-committal grunt in response. His bed was calling his name. His own bed that is, filled with familiar blankets and toys, not Chan’s lumpy sofa which he had become very familiar with.

“Are you gonna make it back, ok?” said Felix, clucking his tongue sympathetically.

Jisung nodded robotically, no longer bothered enough to give verbal replies and opened the door of Chan and Changbin’s room. It was just past noon and his assignment was in before the deadline, but at the cost of his sleep.

He was going to go home and fall into his bed and the next move could be decided when his brain was recharged. Like an idiot, he’d promised not to pull all-nighters only to do several in a row right as the year started. It hadn’t even been a month since term began.

Jisung’s eyes were bloodshot and glazed over. They were scarcely slits, only wide enough for him to stumble down the road without tripping.

He was so close. To rest. He couldn’t keep inconveniencing his friends because of his own procrastination and taking up their space.

Besides, he just wanted to be alone right now.

The elevator door slid open and Jisung slammed his hand against the buttons, hoping he hit number four.

Well. He left the lift at the third floor then dragged his carcass up a flight of stairs. Moments later, half of the contents of his bag was strewn on the floor as he dug through for his key, only to find it in the back pocket of his jeans.

He snorted sarcastically and stuffed everything haphazardly back into his bag. He didn’t care if Minhyung – or Mark was there or what he was doing, Jisung was going to dive into bed.

His bed peeked at him from the corner of his mind, looking so warm, lovely and inviting.

Jisung threw open the door, as energetically as someone who had gone 36 hours without sleep could be, a last spurt of energy ready to propel him through the few metres to his room.

Then he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Huh?” Jisung saw a figure sitting hunched on the sofa, long hair flopping over their face, which was covered by their hands, taking short rasping breaths.

Sleep forgotten temporarily, Jisung walked up to the person – it wasn’t Mark.

“Hey buddy, you okay?”

It was as if he’d said nothing. They didn’t seem to have heard him.

Kneeling down to eye level, Jisung cautiously placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on the man’s arm.

They flinched and jerked out their arm out of his grasp then stared at him, eyes red and unfocused.

It was Lee Minho. Hyunjin’s ex-best friend from high school. Jisung had no clue why Minho was in his apartment but the guy was clearly not okay. Jisung wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but Minho seemed to be wigging out.

“Try and take a breath,” said Jisung then realised what a dumb thing that was to say. 

“I’m fucking am,” was the short panicky reply. Oh dear, Jisung wasn’t really helping. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know if Mark was home or if they were friends but it didn’t seem as if anyone else was here. At least Minho knew he was here now.

“Listen,” said Jisung, touching Minho’s arm tentatively. “Uh, don’t worry, you’re not alone.”

At least he didn’t flinch away from Jisung this time. First things first, Jisung just wanted Minho to _breathe._

“Can you copy me?” Then as noisily as he could Jisung began to breathe slowly in and out, hoping it would regulate Minho’s own choppy gasps.

“Shut. Up.” Minho panted but his breathing was slowing down as his body intuitively followed Jisung’s exhales.

Jisung kept breathing loudly till his sides were sore, until Minho’s breathing started matching his and Minho let out a ragged gasp, dragging a hand through his hair and sat up, looking even worse for wear than Jisung felt.

There were a few minutes of silence as Jisung tentatively sat down beside Minho on the sofa. Jisung knew Minho was attending the same university as him but he’d scarcely seen him in their first year. It was a big campus after all.

*

After the fight with Hyunjin, Minho’s presence had dimmed a little. He used to burn brightly with Hyunjin as two twin flames but now burning alone, the light flickered and the flame licked hungrily at the air for oxygen.

Hyunjin didn’t tell them what happened. Except on the day after he and Jeongin finally confessed to each other, Minho hadn’t come into school. All Jisung knew was it had resulted in Minho’s nose getting broken.

Jisung liked Minho though, more than the rest of his friends combined so he was a little sad about it. Minho was naturally witty and he and Jisung were both known for being ‘weird’, except when Minho was weird, it was cool. When Jisung was weird, he was just called weird.

Minho didn’t become a loner – he was still on the football team with Chan and was dating Jeongyeon but Jisung still felt bad for him. He made more of an effort to say ‘hi’ to Minho if he saw him in the corridor or go over to him for a quick chat if the other boy was alone.

They were more than classmates but not yet friends and definitely not close enough to keep in touch after graduation so they’d gone on their separate ways.

Now in a bizarre twist, Minho was sitting next to him. He hadn’t changed hugely from the Minho in Jisung’s high school memories – his nose had healed perfectly and was still straight and well-aligned. His hair was longer and hid more of his face but otherwise, he looked more or less the same.

“Jisung?” said Minho abruptly, breaking the silence and startling him. He looked lost at sea.

“Y-yeah?” replied Jisung. He resolved to not speak too much and let Minho lead the conversation.

“Why are you here?”

Jisung gaped at him.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” he blurted instead then immediately regretted it. Curse his big mouth.

Minho rolled his eyes in response. “Are you here to see Jisoo or something then?” He was speaking casually to Jisung, which seemed to be a good sign. Or perhaps he was just outgoing and good at socialising. Either way, Jisung was thankful because it cleared the awkwardness away and made Jisung feel more at ease himself.

“Not to be rude, but who the flying fuck is Jisoo?” Jisung kicked his trainers off and crossed his legs on the sofa, hoping his feet didn’t smell. “Aren’t _you_ here to visit Mark?”

Minho’s asymmetrical face wrinkled, confusion creasing his lovely features.

“Who the fuck is Mark?”

“M-my flatmate?” stuttered Jisung, equally out at sea now. Fuck this, he just wanted to go to bed. He’d done his good deed for the day so he could be excused. An awkward reunion with Minho could wait for another day. Perhaps he was so tired out of his mind that he’d strolled into the wrong apartment altogether. They all had the same interior design so it was understandable.

“I’ll just head out…” said Jisung, stuffing his feet back into his trainers and pushing himself off the sofa. He started walking to the door, resolving to figure out what happened in a better situation. “Um, hope you’re okay now.”

“Wait a second!” called Minho, standing up from the sofa. Now his mind was clear, the penny dropped for him. Jisung had unlocked his door, which could only mean one thing. But he couldn’t be completely sure... He grabbed his phone from his room, taking care to avoid the cursed piece of paper and thumbed through his contacts to ‘Jisoo’ before calling the listed number.

Jisung had stopped short of the door, backpack hung over him, looking extremely reluctant to stay any longer. A tune that appeared to be an anime opening started playing although it was very muffled. Jisung immediately stuck his hands in the pocket of his coat, scrambling until he pulled out a phone.

Minho sat back down on the sofa, feeling like his legs would give out otherwise. He felt like he’d just ran a marathon.

“Sorry, just let me answer this – it’s Mark!” blustered Jisung, before answering. “Hello?”

Minho stared at his phone, where his call to Jisoo had just been accepted. Jisung’s voice, a little nasal and a little raspy rang from it. He put the phone to his ear.

“Hello Jisung,” he said into the speaker dryly.

Melodramatically, Jisung whipped round, phone still pressed to his right ear to stare Minho dead in the eyes, phone in hand as well.

A few seconds passed. Minho swore he heard a crow cawing outside.

Then realisation dawned for Jisung and his jaw dropped.

“Well, isn’t this awkward!” laughed Jisung extremely frantically. “Haha! Ha!” There was definite panic in his tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw homophobia, anxiety/panic attack
> 
> They meet at last, haha.


	5. Always Dreaming for a Dream to Come True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, see the end notes for trigger warnings

They were in the middle of a standoff that transitioned bumpily to a sit-down. They sat facing each other at the dining table, both exhausted but trying to intimidate the other one with crossed arms and scowling faces. Jisung tapped his foot and hummed, a spitting portrayal of forced casualness.

“So we’ve been living together and not realising it for what – nearly three weeks?” said Minho in disbelief. Sooner or later he had been expecting to have to confront his high school past but not quite like this…or quite so soon.

“Looks like it,” muttered Jisung, staring at the university’s accommodation email with a look of intense betrayal. “So they told you someone called Hong Jisoo was your flatmate and I got told Lee Minhyung…Mark was mine?”

“The initials are the same, to be fair,” said Minho after thinking it over. He really wanted to go to sleep and perhaps cry while listening to sad music and try and forget the mortification of showing such a vulnerable side of himself. Right now the shock of bizarre situation they were in had shoved his mental breakdown to the side. Mind you, Jisung didn’t look great either, with greasy locks of hair and eyebags deeper than the Marina Trench.

Jisung made the same noise Minho’s cats did when their tails got stepped on and nearly dropped his phone, flailing around to catch it.

“If Mark’s not my roommate…oh god…” Jisung rounded on Minho. “Didn’t you get a message from me asking to eat ramen?”

“You what now?”

“A few weeks ago!” exclaimed Jisung in despair, wringing his hands. “I asked if you – Mark – wanted to meet at the ramen place for dinner because we hadn’t met yet! I went there and ended up talking to-to real life Minhyung, except he’s not Minhyung, he’s Mark but I keep forgetting to call him by his English name!”

“Slow down!” groaned Minho, “Stop confusing me!”

Jisung rose dramatically from the table. “Basically, I invited you to ramen but for some reason you didn’t show and I called out the name Minhyung and ended up talking to an international student on my course called Minhyung who goes by his English name Mark and I thought he was my roommate the whole time!” He finished the speech with a flourish. At least that was what Minho assumed he was going for.

“You had dinner with this guy and he never told you that you were mistaken?” said Minho sceptically, “Sit back down.” He patted the table until Jisung got in his seat again.

“ _That’s_ why Mark looked so confused! I don’t know!” blabbered Jisung, “Somehow, we just all said the right things to each other! I’m such an idiot!”

“Hang on,” frowned Minho. “I remember checking my phone later and seeing Jisoo – well, you – texting about meeting for ramen. But it was midnight at that time so I just didn’t reply and…” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. He scrolled through his messages and found the invitation to ramen and felt a tad guilty.

“So it’s your fault!” cried Jisung, “You’re the reason why I’m going to die from second-hand embarrassment!”

“I’ve been _busy_ ,” corrected Minho, “And I assumed I would run into my flatmate at some point but you were always out or asleep!”

Jisung drew his hands in a sweeping motion, the way a conductor would silence the orchestra. He stood up from his seat again but this time he swayed.

“OK.” He said with finality, “OK.”

Minho stared flatly. “OK what?”

“We continue this conversation after I get some sleep. Nice to meet you, Minho, see you…tomorrow?”

With that, Jisung staggered to his room and slammed the door shut. Within seconds, loud snoring shook the building.

Minho snorted. Unbelievable.

Him and Jisung had been talking pretty comfortably for people who weren’t close. Given that they hadn’t spoken in years, it was impressive.

Minho put a hand to his forehead, face warm with embarrassment. Jisung had walked in on Minho completely freaking out. Minho would call it a panic attack but he wasn’t willing to be that honest with himself so he didn’t. Besides, his memory of the whole thing was already going hazy. But more importantly, rather than ignoring him or leaving, Jisung had tried his best to calm him down. Minho was grateful but at the same time, in discomfort. It felt as if Jisung had something on him, a dirty secret no one could ever find out.

His fuel tank empty, Minho returned to his room. He scrunched the note up then ripped it into little shreds before flushing it down the toilet, watching the paper swirl away for good.

*

Minho finally met the Mark person Jisung told him about in the lobby of their building. He didn’t recognise him at first. They both stepped into the elevator as strangers and when Minho pressed the button for his floor and tipped his head in a nonverbal question, Mark said ‘Same floor as you’.

“Which flat number are you?” Minho had asked.

They were neighbours.

“So you live next door with-?” The elevator doors opened and they stepped out onto their floor.

“Oh, I live with Jisoo-hyung next door,” said Mark, scratching his neck nervously like he thought Minho would jump him. It was strange, Minho didn’t think he was that intimidating.

“So you’re Mark?”

“Yup, that’s me…Mark.”

“Did you get the wrong names for your accommodation too?” Minho decided to press further for clarification. It turned out Mark and the unknown Jisoo had been given Minho and Jisung’s names but they had met on the first day of term like normal people and cleared it up immediately.

“I didn’t know the mix-up would have happened to both of us though,” Mark said, looking troubled. “Sorry about that.”

“Well, yeah, it’s not your fault,” dismissed Minho easily. “We should really have a neighbour’s get-together some time though.”

“Yeah, that would be sweet!”

They exchanged their numbers and left each other with a loose promise to arrange that get-together when all of them were free.

Life carried on far easier than Minho expected after the mix-up. Him and Jisung warmed up to each other much fast, surprisingly sharing more in common than either of them realised. As they settled back into the routine of school life and both of them got better at managing the workload of second year, Minho saw Jisung much more often.

He’d come home and see Jisung sprawled across the sofa, headphones in, or bump into him taking the dirty dishes from his room to the kitchen. It was again, easier than Minho expected. Despite the initial awkwardness, Jisung seemed relaxed around him. Minho was glad both of them were pretending there was no history between them.

They were even moving from just flatmates to _friends,_ with enthusiastic participation from both sides.

“Minho!” called Jisung from his room. When there was no response, he tiptoed to Minho’s room, where the latter was hunched over his textbook, eyebrows knitted in concentration. He slammed both hands down on Minho’s shoulders.

Minho squawked and nearly flailed off his chair in shock. Jisung jumped back and doubled over laughing.

“Dude,” he wheezed like a dying seal, “What was that _noise_?”

“Why are you here?” said Minho dryly. “I have to finish the pre-reading for the lectures tomorrow.”

“Do you want to watch a film?”

“I have the pre-reading to do…”

That was how they’d ended up sitting side by side on Jisung’s messy bed, curtains drawn tightly shut.

“I hadn’t pegged you for a horror fan,” said Jisung nervously as he clicked the play button for ‘You’re Next’. As an apology for creeping up on Minho, Jisung had allowed him to pick the film.

“Are you a fan too?” smirked Minho knowingly as the opening scene played. Someone was already getting hunted by a masked man wielding an axe.

Jisung let out a breathy high-pitched laugh. “Not a huge fan, but they’re not that bad- fuck!”

He jumped as the masked man swung his axe down on-screen and squished his face into Minho’s shoulder.

“Hey, keep watching!” said Minho mercilessly, “You have to pay attention to the plot to know what’s happening,”

Film night became a regular thing for them from then onwards and they took turns to pick each time. Minho liked it when the house wasn’t empty because it stopped him being alone with his thoughts.

*

“Chan, save me!” screamed Jisung, skidding into the third-year classroom, panting with exertion. Chan looked up from his conversation and sighed as Jisung attached himself like a limpet to Chan’s back.

Jeongin rushed in a few moments later.

“You stole my curry bun!” He pointed accusingly at Jisung who wiped the corner of his mouth guiltily.

"Jisung…” Chan began warningly.

“I couldn’t help it,” whined Jisung and lifted his hand up. Clasped in his palm was the remains of the curry bun.

“Not my problem,” said Changbin from beside the two of them, hands up. Jeongin charged like an angry bull at Jisung.

Jisung let out a small shriek of fear and flung the curry bun wildly. “I don’t have it!”

It sailed through the air and hit the back of Minho’s head. Him and Hyunjin were just quietly eating in the corner. Warm sauce trickled down Minho’s neck and the half-eaten bun fell onto the floor with a sad squishy sound. He turned to see his assailant.

“Oh shit, I am so sorry,” babbled Jisung. “That was an accident, I swear to god!”

Jisung’s voice was gratingly loud and ear-piercing. Minho breathed out slowly through his nose. Then he picked up the curry bun from the floor and threw it back to Jisung.

“You can have it back!” he called menacingly. Unlike Jisung, Minho knew exactly where the curry bun was going to land. And unlike Jisung, Minho had perfect aim from being an athletic genius. The curry bun hit Jisung’s forehead dead centre. Orange sauce bloomed like a bruise on his face.

“M-my curry bun,” said Jeongin, downcast.

“Come on Hyunjin,” said Minho, rising out his chair. “Help me wash it out my hair before break ends.”

High school Jisung had been a general annoyance when with his friends and confident to the point of arrogance. He’d had a run-in with almost every person in their year. His hair still changed colours regularly but over time, Jisung’s cockiness had dissipated and been replaced with quiet self-assurance.

Without his friends by his side, Jisung was far more subdued. Minho quickly came to realise his confidence was highest with people he trusted by his side. It made Jisung nervous to order drinks in cafés or when he needed to ask a salesperson if there was another size when shopping. Things that Minho did mindlessly were something Jisung had to plan and find the courage for. So he tried his best to support Jisung with that and in return, not a word was breathed about the past.

One evening, Jisung and Minho were actually eating a proper dinner. As in, a homecooked meal with both of them present. It was part of Minho’s insistence that they had to learn to be adults and cook more often. It was just simple stir-fry with a few banchan but the smell wafted invitingly through the air.

Midway through the conversation, they’d lapsed into silence and you could only hear the clink of chopsticks against bowls. Minho decided then to tiptoe across a new line.

Until now, the topic of high school had been tactfully censored by the both of them. Conversation topics had been restricted to university, careers, hobbies and anything else in their life besides their high school friends.

By now, Minho was pretty confident that Jisung didn’t hate him. Or if he did, he was hiding it very well. So it seemed safe to open that topic up again. He didn’t want Jisung to be cautious when talking to him. Especially as they were possibly on the road to being good friends.

“How’s Chan been these days?” started Minho. The sunlight highlighted the top few strands of Jisung’s blond hair like a halo. “And um…” He didn’t quite get the words out.

“You want to ask about Hyunjin?” said Jisung then he squinted across the table at Minho. “Or…you’re ready to admit we went to the same high school and that we’ve known each other for three years?”

Minho gulped. That meant Jisung had been waiting for Minho to bring it up to make sure they were both comfortable talking about it.

Minho fidgeted with his hands instead of replying straight away.

“It’s still weird,” he argued half-heartedly. “I didn’t think I was going to see everyone else again, much less here. Or be your flatmate.”

At that Jisung smirked. “A blessing in disguise.”

“If that helps your ego.”

“Oi!” protested Jisung. He got up from the table and helped himself to another bowl of rice. “Anyway, Chan’s taking the same course as me. Music composition and technology.”

“Is Changbin taking the same course too?” As far as Minho knew, they’d formed a hip-hop group and had actually produced music, although he’d never listened to their songs himself.

“He wanted to,” said Jisung, almost bitterly. “But his parents weren’t cool with it. So he ended up doing Engineering.”

“That sucks,” said Minho sympathetically, but he couldn’t really relate. He didn’t know how it felt for your parents to disapprove of your career choice because he’d always wanted to be a doctor, which gave you a pretty good social status. “Didn’t you guys have a group?”

Jisung made a surprised pikachu face, mouth parted and eyes large in a cute manner.

“You knew that?” he exclaimed, “Actually scratch that, you still remember?”

“I mean, Chan talked about it quite often during football practice.” Minho replied defensively. Jisung was giving off the impression Minho was an avid fan.

Jisung pressed his face into his hands.

“Please tell me you haven’t listened to them?”

That confused Minho.

“If you’re literally studying music, why are you so embarrassed about it?” They couldn’t be _that_ bad if Jisung could get into a university like this one.

“Minho, we wrote those songs in _high school._ What do you think people in high school are like?” Jisung made a ‘duh’ face. “We’re all cringy as fuck or suffering from eight-grader syndrome.”

“I didn’t,” protested Minho, affronted. “I was perfectly fine.”

“Well perhaps not you, but I definitely did. Our early songs are _painful_ to listen to.”

“I only asked,” said Minho, “I’m sure they’re not that bad.”

“So, moving on…” carried on Jisung hastily, “Felix is doing a kind of niche degree related to theatre but he’s _really really_ good and probably going to end up writing tons of award-winning musicals or something.”

That seemed realistic. According to what Minho could remember, Felix was in the Performing Arts department and was in all the societies related to it.

“Seungmin is unrealistically smart,” He turned to Minho pointedly, “Like you. He’s doing Law _and_ minoring in Photography, as if one degree wasn’t enough.”

“I’m not that smart!” Minho deflected, “Just because Medicine and Law have a reputation-”

“Zip it, nerd. Us lowly mortals can’t compare.”

“You’re calling me a nerd, have you _seen_ yourself?” said Minho incredulously.

“Hey! Don’t insult my only form of emotional support!” Jisung’s eyes narrowed. “Besides, you watch anime too.”

“What I’m trying to say,” said Minho with great effort, dragging the conversation back, “is that you’re not less smart because you don’t take a super academic degree. I wouldn’t be able to compose shit. Einstein and Mozart are both considered geniuses.”

It was true. Minho hated people acting like he was some genius for studying Medicine. He hated seeing Jisung belittle himself, self-deprecating humour or not.

“Thanks, I guess,” mumbled Jisung, eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but at Minho. “Jeongin’s doing whatever the path is to be a social worker. He likes kids a lot. No idea why.” His expression suggested Jeongin was a few fries short of a Happy Meal.

Well, well, well. He’d left Hyunjin for last.

“Hyunjin’s doing a part-time degree in Drama.” Part-time. That implied Hyunjin was too busy for a full-time degree.

“What, he has a job?” said Minho.

“How do you know about 3Racha but not what Hyunjin’s doing?” Minho didn’t know what Jisung was getting at.

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“Hyunjin got scouted as a model!” exclaimed Jisung. “Were you living under a rock at school or what? Everyone was talking about it! For Esteem Entertainment!”

Minho swore out loud. Really, how _hadn’t_ he known about that? Esteem Entertainment was a modelling agency owned by SM Entertainment so for someone to be scouted in was…amazing. Someone who got scouted wouldn’t be living a normal life if they made it.

“Are you kidding me?” Hyunjin had always been effortlessly beautiful since they were kids and was arguably the most popular boy in school but Minho hadn’t imagined it was to that extent.

“If he’s taking Drama,” contemplated Minho, “Is he going to try to make it as an actor too?”

Jisung nodded.

Wow. His ex-best friend Hwang Hyunjin was going to be a celebrity. Knowing Hyunjin, he’d definitely become a household name with how hard he worked. For some reason, a stab of jealousy hit him even though Minho had no intention to be famous. Perhaps it was the feeling of being behind Hyunjin in something.

“And Hyunjin and Jeongin are still together!” added Jisung happily. “High school sweethearts but they’re still going strong…and still disgusting to watch.”

“Good for them,” said Minho in a neutral tone. He honestly meant it, but he didn’t want any details. Anything to keep his mind off the party.

“So what are drama are we watching after dinner?” he said and smiled as Jisung burst into a list of recommendations.

*

Jisung could not wait for the next meet-up. Or a high school reunion, as they liked to jokingly call it. After encountering Minho, Jisung had nearly spammed the group chat with a lengthy paragraph on how Lee Minho was his goddamn flatmate but painfully restrained himself because he needed to see the looks on everyone’s faces when he dropped that bomb on them.

Jisung sincerely hoped Hyunjin didn’t feel too betrayed that he liked Minho an awful lot. Maybe just as much as his other friends. Maybe even a tiny little bit more. He wasn’t sure if the unwritten rules of friendship required him to hate Minho to show solidarity for Hyunjin. Anyhow, Minho was yet to show his villainous characteristics. Jisung would cross that bridge when he got there. Besides, Minho was going to be a doctor, so morally he couldn’t be all that bad.

Not that all doctors were good people though…a certain Harold Shipman came to mind (too much time spent on random documentaries) and Jisung dismissed that argument immediately. How about this then? Minho lived with Jisung and if Jisung pretended to hate Minho, things would get sour pretty fast. He and Hyunjin were good friends, but Jisung wasn’t going to make his own life hell as a display of loyalty.

Hyunjin could be a dick sometimes but Jisung couldn’t picture him threatening to end their friendship because Jisung didn’t hate Minho. Unless the bad blood between them was that serious.

A pit formed in Jisung’s stomach. Maybe he shouldn’t tell everyone Minho was living with him and keep pretending it was Mark? No, that wouldn’t work. He would be found out eventually and keeping up that lie seemed worse. Yeah, that was right. It wasn’t as if Jisung chose to live with Minho.

Jisung plucked his earbuds out his ears and groaned. Now his mind had gone and overcomplicated everything. He pulled a piece of plain paper out his drawer and started listing the possible scenarios of telling his friends or not about living with Minho.

This was why he sucked in social situations because he was always overthinking everything. That was why Jisung was so grateful all his friends were at the same university as him. So he always had someone to fall back on.

He suddenly remembered Minho’s state when Jisung had first met him. He wasn’t completely sure what it was, but it didn’t seem far off a panic attack. Minho had always been so confident in high school, so Jisung hadn’t even thought Minho was capable of being anxious. _Like himself._

Which was a silly assumption to make, considering Minho was only human but it had been a shock, nonetheless.

Had Minho always had a more vulnerable side hidden under his confident exterior or was it related to his fight with Hyunjin? Jisung didn’t want to snoop, but he was definitely curious about what went down between the two.

Then a light bulb went off. Eureka! What if he could get Hyunjin and Minho to mend their friendship? Then everyone would be happy and Minho could also be part of their high school friends! OK, so maybe that was a selfish wish on Jisung’s part, but in theory, if Hyunjin and Minho’s friendship _could_ be repaired…

“Do you want to come with me to see everyone from high school?” asked Jisung, the second Minho opened the door, hair dampened with drizzle.

“Where did that come from?” said Minho cautiously. He shrugged off his coat and placed his shoes neatly in the shoe rack. Jisung admired his ability to do that. Normally he just kicked his shoes and they landed where physics took them.

“Ah, well,” blustered Jisung, “I just thought it would be nice to see everyone together. You haven’t seen them in a while too so you could go and catch up.”

“I think you’re forgetting the part where Hyunjin and probably everyone else hates me.” Jisung only latched onto one part of that. It sounded like Minho would go if there wasn’t anything to stop him.

Which would mean Minho didn’t hate Hyunjin, after all. That perhaps he would be friends with Hyunjin again if he had the opportunity.

Hyunjin was a pretty stubborn fool. He’d fought with Minho over the girl in their short film and quit the team because of it. Hyunjin was good at holding grudges too – he and Jisung had even had a short feud in the first year of university over something trivial.

“So you don’t hate Hyunjin?” said Jisung excitedly. “We don’t hate you! We just know you have major beef about Hyunjin! Chan still talks about you sometimes!”

Minho sighed exasperatedly. He stood in the doorway and gave Jisung a Look that meant it wasn’t up for discussion.

Still, Jisung pressed on.

“You could come and sort things out with Hyunjin?” he wheedled. “It’s tomorrow evening at Chan’s place.”

Minho looked undeniably wistful but his tone was defeated. “It’s not that easy. An apology might not be enough to sort things out. If it were that simple, we’d still be friends. It’s a really long story. Thanks for offering though.” They were short clipped sentences, full of reluctance.

“Have you ever tried to say sorry though?” Jisung just couldn’t stop probing even though it was making Minho visibly uncomfortable. Minho ignored him and walked away, his footsteps heavier than usual.

“People who say it’s a long story usually mean it’s a short silly one they’re too embarrassed to talk about!” called Jisung at his retreating back.

Then Minho went into his room and slammed the door and had not emerged for the rest of the night.

There went Jisung’s grand masterplan. He didn’t dare bring it up again when Minho was obviously so sensitive about it. So on the day of the gathering, Jisung appeared solo and banged at the door of Chan and Changbin’s flat, a six pack of beers in hand. He didn’t like beer but Chan did and Felix had already said he was bringing snacks.

As soon as everyone had arrived and were wedged tightly into the already jam-packed living room, Jisung decided it was time to relay his thrilling tale. The living room was hideously decorated with too many neon coloured cushions scattered on the sofas, clashing with the bright orange carpet. There weren’t enough seats either so a few of them were cross-legged on the floor.

“Attention!” he called over the hubbub and waited for the noise to subside. “I have something important to say.”

Seungmin and Hyunjin both rolled their eyes at this. Jisung did not miss this.

“I’ll have you know it’s a rollercoaster tale!” Then he began his tale, leaving out the part where he calmed Minho down.

“-so it turned out that Mark wasn’t even the person I was living with and having dinner together was completely unprompted!”

Everyone was already screaming with laughter at this point, clinging on to Jisung’s every word. He was a storyteller with an enraptured audience.

“So you’ll never guess who my real flatmate is!” boomed Jisung, forgetting his indoor voice completely. “I walked in and saw him and I was like are you here to visit someone and he said the same to me. And it was so awkward!”

“Stop dragging it out!” wailed Hyunjin, throwing a pillow in his direction. “Just tell us for fuck’s sake!”

“As I was saying,” continued Jisung, levelling a stern gaze at Hyunjin to shut the hell up, “I was nearly two days without sleep at this point so my brain processing power was nearly zero-”

“How it usually is,” muttered Seungmin darkly. Jeongin snorted. Jisung tried to ignore, really he did.

“Can I tell one story without being roasted by all of you!” he near-screeched at them, flinging the bright pink cushion in the direction of Seungmin’s face. “We were both like ‘why the fuck are you here’ and then I thought that maybe I was so tired I’d walked into the wrong flat altogether and left…but then he rang his flatmate’s number and my phone started ringing so I picked up and turned around and saw him on his phone too…and I was like ‘this is awkward’ but now we’re friends!”

“WHO IS IT?” everyone thundered, starting to get bored. The suspense had gone slightly stale from all the interruptions.

“LEE MINHO!” screamed Jisung. “Minho is my flatmate!”

The room erupted in disbelieving hollers and then fell into an uncomfortable silence as everyone glanced unsubtly by default at Hyunjin, then Jeongin.

“That was not the reaction I was hoping for,” said Jisung and he sat down on the carpet awkwardly. “Anyway, what a blast from the past!”

Sensing the uneasy tension in the atmosphere, Felix (bless his soul) jumped in and started another conversation. Within seconds, the chatter moved on to something else and the alcohol began flowing.

About an hour later, Hyunjin found Jisung nursing a bottle of flat Sprite as he watched Felix attempt to get Changbin’s attention and failing because the latter was about to arm-wrestle Chan.

“Can we talk about earlier?” said Hyunjin. Perturbed, Jisung got up and followed Hyunjin to Changbin’s entirely black, emo bedroom. His unease grew as Hyunjin closed the door behind him.

“As a precaution,” explained Hyunjin.

They both sat face-to-face, cross-legged on Changbin’s unmade bed, which had a few crumbs on it.

“You wanna talk to me about Minho?” said Jisung, “I know you might hate him, but we’re actually really close friends now and I’m not about to pretend I hate him just for your grudge-”

“I’m not mad about that,” chided Hyunjin, voice low. “I did hate Minho for a while but now I just feel sorry for him.”

“He said he doesn’t hate you!” Jisung immediately piped up. Minho hadn’t said so explicitly, but Jisung was sure that was what Minho had meant. “You guys should make up already then!”

Conflict swam across Hyunjin’s eyes. “Did you ever tell Minho you don’t care about gender in relationships?”

Jisung scoffed at that.

“You know I don’t believe in that kind of stuff. I don’t have to explain anything to him. If he assumes I’m straight, that’s his problem.”

Hyunjin let out a sigh of relief.

“No one else besides Jeongin knows but I’m going to tell you why I stopped talking to Minho. Don’t tell anyone else, not even Chan or Changbin.”

“Of course I won’t, who do you take me for?” muttered Jisung quickly but shut up to listen in case Hyunjin changed his mind about telling him.

“You know I got a crush on Jeongin after I had that fight with Minho about Jeongyeon?”

That was old news. During the school festival, they’d made a short romance film called On Track with Minho and Jeongyeon, a girl in their class doing the lead roles. To summarise, Hyunjin and Minho both got a crush on Jeongyeon, then had a fight over it, Hyunjin had quit the film crew and then Minho had started dating Jeongyeon. Somewhere in between, Hyunjin got together with Jeongin and Hyunjin’s friendship with Minho fell apart. Given they’d been childhood friends, it was a big shock for everyone involved.

“When I first began liking Jeongin, I was really confused. So I asked Minho what he thought about liking guys. And he pretty much said if you were LGBT, you weren’t normal.”

“Ouch,” said Jisung, dumbfounded.

“That really hurt because I was questioning my sexuality and struggling with what I felt about Jeongin so I got really mad and said ‘so I’m not normal?’ but then…” Hyunjin took a deep breath.

“He just said I was being dramatic and basically invalidated me and I got so angry I just…started crying like an idiot and left.”

“No!” gasped Jisung. His perception of Minho flipped around and he found himself questioning everything he ever knew about Minho.

“That’s not all,” said Hyunjin grimly. “You know the class project he did with Jeongin? He basically outed me to Jeongin and told him I was weird for being gay. Then when Jeongin defended me, he called Jeongin pathetic and said I’d never like a loser like him.”

Jisung’s jaw dropped. _No._

“What the fuck?” snapped Jisung unable to control himself. “That’s such a fucking dick move. That’s…literal bullying!”

Hyunjin laughed humourlessly. “That was my reaction too. But that was how I found out Jeongin liked me back so maybe he did me a favour too. I did break his nose for saying all that stuff.”

“So you’re over it now?” It seemed like a pretty big deal to Jisung. But it’d had also been two years ago. People surely could change their views and grow up, couldn’t they?

“If Minho’s realised he was a homophobic asshole and begs me for forgiveness, I might accept an apology,” shrugged Hyunjin. “I’m not going to lie and say it didn’t hurt. We’ve known each other since we were four and the fact that me being gay is what he valued more than the time we’ve spent together really says something. But I don’t hate Minho anymore, I don’t think he’s a bad person. His views about gender and sexuality are just screwed beyond belief.”

“Um, I don’t really know how to respond,” said Jisung. His head was swimming. He wasn’t sure if he could look Minho in the eye for a while.

“I’m saying it’s fine to be friends with Minho, he’s a good person to be around. We were best friends for over a whole decade. But if he finds out you’re gay and he’s still homophobic like back then, it might make your life hard. So I’m warning you.”

Minho? Homophobic? The words didn’t match up. Jisung was still finding it hard to bring himself to believe Minho was capable of such cruel actions. Kind, funny Minho? Surely he would be different now?

“Why didn’t you tell us back then?” demanded Jisung. If he had known, there was no way he would’ve made friends with Minho and gotten to know him. But now he had, it was difficult to go back. It wasn’t like Minho was a celebrity he could cancel, Jisung had really gotten to know the guy on a personal basis and was conflicted.

The conversation now over, it was starting to feel awkward. Jisung and Hyunjin rarely had deep, serious talks with each other so neither of them was quite sure how to act after it. Hyunjin got up to return to the living room, his reason being the others would no doubt start wondering where they’d gone or suspect the two of them were fighting again.

“Hang on!” blurted Jisung, remembering. “I told Minho you and Jeongin were still together!” Hyunjin stilled, hand about to reach for the door handle.

“He didn’t react weird, he just said ‘good for them’! He was happy for you!” Jisung desperately wanted to give Minho benefit of the doubt, that he’d matured and changed.

“I really hope so, Jisung,” said Hyunjin, but he didn’t sound convinced. “I didn’t mention it earlier but Minho has a funny perspective. He says he has nothing against gay people but he views them as freaks of nature, as something that shouldn’t have happened. Maybe he’s learned not to express his views but who knows if he still sticks by them?”

“There goes my optimism,” Jisung pouted. Hyunjin evidently knew Minho better than he did.

“Just be careful, Jisung,” said Hyunjin. “That’s all I wanted to tell you. Granted his parents are homophobic, but that’s no excuse for him not to educate himself. Please don’t make allowances for him.”

“I know,” admonished Jisung slightly grumpily. He did believe Hyunjin but it was a perspective he was struggling to make sense of. “I believe you dude, but that was quite a bomb you dropped on me just now.”

He returned to the living room with Hyunjin, mind racing. Jisung wanted to be positive. Minho _must_ have changed, he was studying Medicine, right? Doctors weren’t meant to discriminate.

But just because doctors were prohibited from discrimination in the workplace, it didn’t mean they didn’t hold back inherently homophobic beliefs. God, he needed to stop assuming Minho was a good person because he was studying Medicine. Hell, Seungmin was studying Law but Jisung literally thought of him as the Devil’s reincarnation.

Shaking his head, Jisung poured his cup of flat Sprite down the sink and opted for something a bit stronger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw mentions of homophobia, anxiety and panic attacks
> 
> this was a longer chapter and a lot more is revealed! hope you enjoy it!


	6. Deja Vu so I Close My Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy :)

When Jisung got home, Minho was sitting at the dining table, glasses on, thumbing through a thick textbook. He looked like a sexy librarian with those black-rimmed glasses. A large pile of flashcards was stacked on the table too.

“You were gone for a while,” greeted Minho, the slightest bit of wistfulness slipping through. He massaged his temples with his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut. His eyes roved over Jisung’s face, whose cheeks were bright and rosy.

“You were drinking?” tutted Minho. “You do know having Asian flush means your alcohol tolerance sucks.” He also wanted to add it increased your risk of cirrhosis but he didn’t want to sound Jisung’s parent.

“I’m just tipsy!” defended Jisung honestly. “It wore off a while ago. And I’ll have you know my tolerance is actually great.”

“Was it fun?” _He’s a homophobe._

“Yeah, yeah, it was great,” garbled Jisung and he hastily made his way to his room, “I’ll be working on my essay now, if you need me just shout.”

“Jisung, it’s past midnight, you should sleep and do it later.” Minho was really turning into his mum, which was sweet but _he’s kinda homophobic._ But here he was worrying about Jisung’s own sleep schedule when he was staying up as well.

“That would be ideal,” agreed Jisung wholeheartedly, “And I totally would. But it’s due tomorrow.”

Minho shook his head disapprovingly. “Sometimes I _really_ wonder about you. Good luck, then.”

Two hours later, Jisung stared at his blank document for his essay on Music Marketing Technology module. His mind was also completely blank, wiped of everything, including Minho. His eyeballs were about to roll straight out from exhaustion and he could feel his muscles stiffening from lack of sleep. His bones would be aching tomorrow.

Instead of writing the damn essay, he scrolled through Instagram then Youtube, watching those videos that popped up in everyone’s recommended. The short ones with clickbait thumbnails that you didn’t want to click on but ended up watching anyway. So much for never staying up again after the first major assessment. Maybe it was time to accept he was going to be a procrastinator for the rest of his life.

Deciding he would eat something then seriously settle down to finish his essay, Jisung popped out to the kitchen, only to see that Minho had fallen asleep at the table and was currently drooling onto his notes. He tapped Minho gently, who let out a small snore. It sounded like a small pig oinking. But small pigs were cute.

Jisung blinked, startled at his sleep-deprived train of thought.

“You should go sleep in your bed,” said Jisung, shaking him a bit harder.

Minho’s eyes opened a slither then he straightened up, startled.

“Is it morning? Did you finish your essay?”

“No…it’s half past two in the morning and I haven’t done shit, but Minho you should go to bed, why are you still studying?”

“I need to finish the pre-reading and pre-lecture,” murmured Minho drowsily. “But none of it’s been going in.”

Jisung recoiled in horror.

“You pre-study for class…that’s impressive.” He settled on leaving it as a compliment rather than calling Minho crazy…although he did think Minho was crazy.

“It’s not like I choose to,” said Minho and he grasped his pen again. “The professors set the pre-work.”

Jisung promptly snatched the pen out of his hand and threw it across the room. It hit the window with a clang. He squared up and turned to face Minho, who was suppressing a smile.

“OK, I got the message,” said Minho and he rolled his eyes. “I’ll sleep now. You’re a hypocrite, you know.”

It was fondly said though.

“I know you love me,” replied Jisung with a wide grin, shepherding Minho to his room, “Now let me finish that essay.”

Minho wobbled to his bed and flopped onto it.

“No one asked you to tuck me into bed,” he said. Jisung indeed was pulling the covers over Minho, making sure he was so cosy he wouldn’t climb out. He switched the lights off as Minho snuggled under the warmth of his duvet.

“See you in the morning,”

“You too.”

Jisung stuffed his earphones back in and promised he would not budge an inch till that essay was finished.

A few hours of suffering later and watching the rays of the rising sun peek through the curtains, Jisung shut the lid of his laptop and had the presence of mind to set an alarm before collapsing and falling straight asleep in bed, not even bothering to pull the covers over himself.

“I hate you,” said Mark when they got their essays back. He’d looked over the top of Jisung’s paper as it got handed to him. “I absolutely hate you.”

Jisung’s heartbeat only calmed when he saw the grade he’d received.

“I work best under pressure,” he said smugly. “But seriously, I need to stop procrastinating.”

“I spent so long on this,” Mark said mournfully, “You churned it out a few hours before it was due and you still get such a high score. You started at half two!”

“It’s not like your mark is bad,” pointed out Jisung. It really wasn’t and it was well above a pass. “Hey Chan, what about you?”

“I did fine!” said Chan too quickly, flipping his essay over. “Same as usual.” The tips of his ears were pinkening.

Jisung snatched his essay in the blink of an eye and smirked when Chan yelped helplessly in protest.

“You got _full marks_!” he exclaimed, a tad too loudly. Within seconds, all the heads in the room turned to Chan who was now the same shade as a ripe tomato.

“Don’t say it so loud!” he hissed crossly at Jisung. His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, like a zombie’s.

“This is the difference between me and Chan,” Jisung told Mark, who was gaping incredulously at Chan. “He started his essay at five in the morning. But look at his marks!”

“Hey now,” said Chan sheepishly. A hand squeezed Jisung’s shoulder a little too tight.

“S-sorry…”

*

Jisung was having a good time right now. In one of the booths in the ramen place, Minho was next to him, but across from them was Chan.

Yes, that was right, he’d gotten Minho to agree to meet Chan. The plan was back in motion, even if the progress was slow. Progress wasn’t linear anyway.

After what Hyunjin told him, Jisung spent a while processing the information and decided on only crossing that bridge when necessary. It wasn’t like he could walk up to Minho and ask him what he thought of the LGBT community. There was no point stirring up conflict especially as it was probably a sore spot for Minho.

Chan had been enthusiastic about meeting Minho and especially about Jisung making new friends which had made him grumble.

“I’m not totally helpless,” he’d told Chan. It was normal to be friends with your flatmates anyway.

He kept quiet for most of the conversation and just let the two of them catch up, relishing the sight of Minho bonding with his ultimate god-tier best friend. They talked about the football team, their courses, what they were doing now, smoothly skipping over Hyunjin because Chan was an able adult who didn’t stick his foot in his mouth all the time.

“I didn’t think you’d do Medicine though,” said Chan thoughtfully, slurping from the bowl, now on his third refill of ramen. “I know you said you were interested, but I totally can’t imagine you as a doctor.”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence,” remarked Minho drily. “I can imagine you producing music though.”

They both laughed and Jisung beamed. This was insane. The absolute shit. It was how things were meant to me.

“Are you still with Jeongyeon?” asked Chan nonchalantly, slurping his fourth serving of noodles.

Minho’s lips did an odd jerky twitch at the mention of her name.

“We broke up last year,” he said and did not elaborate further.

Chan let out his classic nervous laugh, close to the braying of a donkey.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to be,” replied Minho casually although the tense curve of his shoulders suggested he felt otherwise. “It was for the best. Long-distance didn’t work out and all that jazz.”

A silence stretched between them and started becoming torturous, only punctuated by the sound of slurping and the waitress returning to bring Chan a _fifth_ serving.

“Where does all that food go?” blurted Jisung, out of ways to resume the conversation. He’d already asked Chan this multiple times but Chan was kind enough to respond each time, mainly because Jisung panicked when he felt awkward.

Chan patted his stomach clumsily and let out a small burp. “Yeah, that’s me. The greedy guy.” He was about to say more but he picked up his chopsticks.

The silence resumed again with Chan’s slurps as the intermission. Jisung had failed in his mission.

“Minho, we saw each other at the beginning of the party, right?” began Chan, finally. “I didn’t recognise you at first because your hair’s so much longer now.”

Unexpectedly, Minho tensed visibly, much more so than when Chan had brought up Jeongyeon. It appeared Chan had developed a habit of putting his foot in his mouth around Minho but was unaware of this new skill.

“That’s right,” Minho replied in a clipped voice. “Thanks for returning my phone, by the way.”

Jisung gave Minho a sideways stare. The man looked twitchy as hell, his eyes were darting around, and he was fiddling with his hands.

“We should have caught up,” continued Chan oblivious to Minho’s discomfort. Or maybe Jisung was watching Minho too closely. “I actually wanted to talk to you but you were a bit out of it, yeah.”

“Yeah, I was really drunk that night,” Minho slowly said, as if carefully considering each word. “I actually saw you earlier but I didn’t know how to start a conversation. It’s a shame.”

“Oh, you saw me?” said Chan, “When was that?”

“Were you hogging the karaoke machine again?” said Jisung teasingly. 

“Oi!” Chan flushed. “Why do you always bring that up?”

“No, it wasn’t then,” Minho said. “But I would be interested in hearing your karaoke story later.”

Jisung cackled as Chan groaned.

“Actually, it was at the beginning of the party, I think, and you were with Felix and someone I didn’t know,”

Jisung gulped. Hyunwoo? But he had no way of warning Chan that Minho was possibly a homophobe. He stood in the storm, powerless to stop the rain drenching him. The bridge was in front of him and he had to cross. And it was on fire too.

“Oh!” Chan’s face lit up dreamily. “My boyfriend Hyunwoo. He’s working as a backup dancer currently but we met when he was in his last year here.”

“He’s an old man like you,” Jisung couldn’t resist adding and laughed at Chan’s sulky expression. “No, but you guys are like an old married couple.”

Jisung watched Minho’s reaction intently, pinpointing all the movements of his features. His expression didn’t change much so Jisung exhaled loudly with relief.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Minho, whose eyes narrowed at him. Jisung forgot he was perceptive too. And probably trained in reading body language from his medicine stuff.

Hastily, Jisung wolf-whistled as a cover-up. It was too late.

Well, he would just brace himself and ask Minho directly later.

“They’re revolting together,” he said by way of explanation. Quick, what could he say? “They have these disgusting nicknames. Hyunwoo says Chan’s a wolf and Chan says he’s a bear.”

“H-hey!” protested Chan, flushing again.

“I didn’t know you were a furry,” smirked Minho and the atmosphere slid back onto the right tracks.

“I’m not a furry…” said Chan hopelessly. “I’m not!”

He turned to Jisung in dismay.

“Do I exist so everyone can bully me?”

Jisung considered and then nodded.

*

Friday evening or ‘nothing night’, dubbed as such because Jisung and Minho always spent it together at home, doing nothing productive. It was a newly established part of their flatmate routine, part of practicing ‘mindfulness’. Again, Minho had put Jisung up to it. He was determined to live a healthy lifestyle and past a hundred. Huh, when had Minho began referring to his flat as home?

“Minho, can I ask you something?”

“Ask away, young one.” He replied.

Jisung let out a low chuckle, flashing his teeth. Minho forced into awareness of how nice it was, just him and Jisung chilling on the sofa every week like this. It was all so cosy and intimate? Intimate? It wasn’t a word Minho wanted to use to describe it, but he couldn’t think of a better-fitting one.

His eyes roamed over Jisung, over his eyes to his lips, then back up to meet Jisung’s gaze and a flash of curiosity passed through him.

Jisung seemed startled and blinked a few times then readjusted his position on the sofa.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, but what do you think of LGBT stuff?” Jisung spoke with forced neutrality that Minho saw through instantly. For now, he decided to play dumb just in case.

High-school Minho would have told Jisung the truth and given his real opinion. But now Minho had learnt to mask his opinions, to bend his words to appease the person in question. Let people hear what they wanted to hear. It was a little game that he had become used to playing, finding a balance between fact and fiction, creating believable half-truths.

He wasn’t particularly a fan of lying to Jisung but he wasn’t above a little embellishment here and there. And it wasn’t the same as high school. Minho’s tolerance had improved in leaps and bounds since then.

“I don’t really care,” Jisung raised his eyebrows at that.

“People can get up to whatever they want, it’s none of my business.” The vivid image of Joshua flickered behind his eyes and he willed it away, trying not to grimace. “I’m not going to interfere. Why are you asking?”

Redirect the question and shift the focus off himself. It was a good technique for probing questions like these. Jisung shifted self-consciously beside him.

“I was just thinking about stuff…but you didn’t really answer.” Jisung hesitated, clearly fighting between bringing Hyunjin up or not. Oh, Minho could read him like a book.

“What do you want me to say?” retorted Minho, “I’m not gay and I have nothing against people who identify as LGBT. Is that good enough?”

“So you wouldn’t treat someone differently because of it?”

“Of course not,” scoffed Minho incredulously. “What kind of doctor would I be then? A fucking shit one.”

Really, people could do what they want in their own lives. Minho didn’t hate them. But it would be a lie if it didn’t make him uneasy. Knowing someone wasn’t straight, wasn’t quite _normal_ always prodded at his conscious. The problem wasn’t necessarily them, but Minho himself. His mind. Always filling him with unpleasant thoughts and the constant what-ifs.

He decided to cut through the bullshit now.

“You know what happened with Hyunjin, don’t you?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about!” Jisung denied until Minho’s flat stare broke him.

“OK, he told me a while ago.” He admitted. “But I really only found out recently.”

Minho’s stomach swooped, partly relieved that Hyunjin had not told everyone to save Minho’s reputation and partly anxious in what Jisung thought of him now.

“Oh,” Did Jisung hate him now? Minho couldn’t bring himself to speak the words so he opted for lowering his eyes to the floor, waiting for whatever came next. Jisung didn’t hate him, right?

He’d been alone for all of first year after losing Jeongyeon. He was only just starting to get used to having a familiar face, a truly close friend. Jisung _couldn’t_ hate Minho, because if he did, Minho would be alone.

“You said ‘good for them’ when I mentioned Hyunjin and Jeongin,” Jisung hurriedly plowed on. “And you didn’t say anything bad about Chan. I don’t believe you’re the same person you were back then and you’ve changed your views…right? Just be honest with me?”

The trust he held for Minho was astounding. It was just Minho definitely didn’t think of himself that highly. Jisung was really perceptive, Minho would give him that. But Minho’s game face was stapled on too tight for him to give Jisung the honesty he deserved.

“I’ll believe you!” Jisung said after Minho continued to say nothing. “I just want to know.”

“It’s different,” admitted Minho. He didn’t want to talk about this at all. He could already feel the murmurs of his mind pressing against him, telling him that he didn’t know himself. “Honestly, I-”

His courage failed him. Jisung nodded at him comfortingly and gave Minho’s hand a quick squeeze.

Oh, that was right. How could he forget? Jisung saw Minho at his worst long ago. It was only because Jisung was so tactful that Minho hadn’t been reminded of it.

“I really don’t mind Hyunjin or Jeongin being gay. Or Chan, for that matter. I can see that now. It’s not something that changes who they are as a person. It’s not their personality. But I just don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to though,” chipped in Jisung. “If you’re straight, it’s logical you wouldn’t understand. Otherwise you wouldn’t be straight anymore, would you?”

Unbidden, the corners of Minho’s lips rose.

“It’s more than that,” The words tumbled more freely now. “I don’t know how to put it in words, but…” _It’s not normal. It’s wrong._

“That’s fine,” Jisung said with a wave of his hand. “I’m not interrogating you. You’re not obligated to explain.”

“You’re actually really good at talking to people,” said Minho, “Are you sure you’re not the one going to be a doctor?”

“Nah, I’d rather reach people through my lyrics.”

There was a thoughtful pause.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you out Hyunjin to Jeongin and all the rest?”

Ouch. Minho had expected that, but at the same time, he wasn’t completely sure. He explained it to Jisung the best he could. He was confused and shocked by Hyunjin coming out to him and he’d received it badly and lashed out like a shit excuse of a friend he was. Minho didn’t know how to talk to Hyunjin again afterward. His best friend suddenly being gay turned his worldview upside down. And then there was the jealousy and fear of being replaced, which even having Jeongyeon at his side couldn’t soothe.

Excuses aside, Minho was just a piece of shit.

“I hated Jeongin because I was an idiot. Even though I was the one who broke Hyunjin’s trust and drove him away, I was still jealous of Jeongin for ‘taking’ Hyunjin away from me.”

“And you’re sorry for what you did back then?”

“Is it not obvious?” scoffed Minho bitterly. “I wouldn’t have said that to Hyunjin now and not just because I’m putting on an act. I didn’t want to think about it and I didn’t know how either so everything just fell apart. Which was dumb as fuck too because after a while, I had even less of an idea what to do. So I just let our friendship go.”

“And you regret it?”

“Yes I do!” snapped Minho with more passion than he’d realised he had. “I was dating Jeongyeon...”

He swallowed.

“I was with Jeongyeon but even then, I still missed Hyunjin so much.”

“Great,” beamed Jisung, with the smile of someone all too knowing. “Now come with me and say what you just said to Hyunjin and Jeongin!”

“No, what the fuck!” exclaimed Minho immediately, “They must hate me! Rightfully so!”

“Hyunjin doesn’t hate you!” fired back Jisung, “He said he might forgive you if you apologised to him!”

Hyunjin’s warning still stuck in Jisung’s mind, that Minho was only pretending to be accepting when he still thought of Hyunjin as a freak or something. But Jisung so desperately wanted to believe the earnest light in Minho’s eyes was genuine.

Why should Hyunjin and Minho keep hurting over the past if things could be resolved? Jisung certainly wasn’t going to let this opportunity drift by.

He would fix this.

*

A stubborn thought refused to budge from Minho’s mind after the conversation with Jisung, even as they settled into the drama, distracting him from the dialogue.

_If you don’t hate gay people or care that they’re not normal…_

_You’re the problem._

_You just don’t want to be gay. You don’t get why someone would be gay. It’s not a choice, Minho._

_I know,_ he argued. _But that doesn’t matter because_ I’m _not gay._

_The party, Minho._

“Jisung,” said Minho, after a few episodes and remaining stuck in a loop of intrusive thoughts. “I’m really tired now and I have a lot of thoughts buzzing around so I’m going to go to bed now.” He’d completely missed what was happening on-screen. 

“Yeah sure,” replied Jisung. He sounded a little disappointed they couldn’t keep watching but it felt like he understood where Minho was coming from.

Minho loved that quality about Jisung. Once you got to know him beyond his jokes and banter, Jisung was such a fucking great person. He just understood people’s boundaries so well.

He stopped that train of thought as Jisung wrestled Minho out of his room a few days later on the day of his next ‘high school reunion’.

“I wasn’t kidding!” Jisung said as he tugged at Minho with determination, “You’re going to say what you said to me to Hyunjin and Jeongin and clear this mess up!”

Minho tried to pull away, but it was half-hearted. He wanted to make up and have a happy ending too like in the drama they were watching. They would cry and make up then all go out to a barbeque restaurant. But this was life. Nothing was easy.

There were a few minutes of back-and-forth arguing.

“You don’t know if you don’t try!” retorted Jisung with more fire than Minho knew he possessed. “Now, chop-chop! Or else!”

He gave Minho such a fierce glare that Minho meekly got dressed and stood at the door, waiting for Jisung to lace his trainers. Minho had wanted to reach out to Hyunjin since last year, but he was always too scared. Here was Jisung, giving him the push he needed. He would try his best to take this chance.

Lovely, lovely Jisung. The world’s best boy. No homo.

Minho tried to back out again, only protesting because he felt he had to. It helped calm his nerves by filling the air with pointless protests.

“Don’t make me do this, Sungie,” he pleaded in the elevator.

“It’s been a whole damn year! It’s now or never, literally!” Jisung said immediately. He pulled Minho’s wrist, tightly grabbing Minho’s coat sleeve.

Minho grinned, then frowned, furious at himself. He wasn’t entirely sure why.

That was how he was frog-marched across campus to the swankier student accommodation where the furniture wasn’t all the same drab shade of brown.

“Where are we?” he asked Jisung, now anxious to the point a queasy pit was forming in his stomach.

“Hyunjin and Jeongin’s place. The meet-up’s here this time,” explained Jisung, still clutching Minho’s wrist as if he expected Minho to bolt the second he released him. Minho could feel the heat of Jisung’s hand through his clothes.

It unsettled him, but he couldn’t bring himself to shake Jisung’s hand off. Minho needed the supportive touch.

“Are you okay?” Jisung said finally, about to bang on the door with his free hand. “I wouldn’t actually want to force you if you’re uncomfortable.”

Minho steeled his resolve and nodded firmly. He was this close already so there was no way he would back out and disappoint Jisung.

“One hundred percent sure?”

“You’re with me, so it’s okay,” Minho said, more to himself than anything. “I trust you.”

He said the last part too quietly for Jisung to hear.

“Here goes then,” said Jisung, with one last glance at Minho. He pounded at the door, hard enough to rattle it in its hinges.

“Stop that racket!” Minho could hear Hyunjin shouting faintly from inside and his insides clenched with sudden nostalgia.

It’d been so long since he’d seen Hyunjin. The pit of his stomach immediately bubbled with fear, despite his words earlier. He could do this, he would get through this.

His breathing was starting to get uneven so Minho wrenched his wrist from Jisung’s grasp, who looked taken aback. And maybe a little hurt.

Instead, Minho took Jisung’s outstretched hand, hoping Jisung wouldn’t mind his sweaty fingers. He gave Jisung’s hand one small squeeze then let go like he was holding a lump of hot coal when the door banged open.

“We’re here! Don’t knock down the fucking door! O-oh,” Hyunjin and Jeongin finally came face to face with Minho, for the first time in a year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's finally happening!
> 
> a/n changed the summary because it's been crappy and bothering me for a fat while


	7. Wanting Something I Can't See

Hyunjin hadn’t changed that much. But some of his features had become more refined, more elegant as he matured and he held a grace that Minho had never seen before. His hair was a very light shade of blonde, almost white and was extremely long, tied back in a ponytail. He’d also lost quite a bit of weight and his jawline was sharper, defining his face in a way that could only be described as beautiful. Simply put, he was resplendent. 

But it was still the Hyunjin who Minho watched grow up. The Hyunjin whose tears Minho wiped when he was down, the Hyunjin who’d been in his class every year of school and had always sat next to him in every lesson. The Hyunjin who he ate mud with together in nursery.

Beside him, Jeongin was noticeably more grown-up too. His braces were gone and his face more confident.

Their expressions were equally shocked but Minho couldn’t see that, unable to look up and meet Hyunjin’s eyes, his gaze refusing to move upwards past Hyunjin’s chin.

“Jisung, why is Minho here?” said Jeongin accusingly. Minho inhaled deeply. It was now or never.

“I’m here to apologise,” he said swiftly, and Jisung nodded approvingly behind him. There was a feather-light pat on his back, so light Minho barely felt it. “You don’t have to accept it, but please hear me out.”

Jeongin’s grip on the door handle tightened, but he nodded to let Minho speak.

Then he essentially repeated what Jisung had coaxed out of him, grateful that neither of the two had interrupted him, or slammed the door in his face.

“I know I don’t deserve forgiveness for what I did, but I really _am_ sorry.” Minho forced every ounce of sincerity he could into his voice, praying it got through. His message delivered, he fell silent, prepared to accept whatever the outcome was.

Hyunjin remained tight-lipped throughout it all, eyes wary. Jeongin seemed uneasy, glancing to the side to check on Hyunjin every now and then. Jisung looked as if he wanted to say something, but Jeongin shook his head in a tiny motion that Hyunjin didn’t catch onto.

“Thanks for apologising,” said Hyunjin shortly after a moment. “I don’t hate you. And I haven’t hated you for a while. But I don’t think we can go back to best friends just like that. I also can’t forgive you completely. Not just because of me, but what you did to Jeongin.”

“You don’t have to,” blurted Minho right away. “It’s all up to you.”

Jeongin placed a comforting hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder and Minho watched the gentle movement with an odd sensation in his chest.

“I know we ended on a pretty bad note,” said Jeongin calmly. “But I can sort of understand you. I’ve grown since that time and it’s a burden off me to say I forgive you for what happened in high school as well.” Hyunjin inhaled sharply, clearly not expecting for Jeongin to accept just like that. Perhaps even a little annoyed.

“T-thank you,” breathed Minho. The metaphorical weight on his shoulders really did lighten immensely. In fact, it was a weight he’d carried for so long he hadn’t even realised it was there. But now it was gone, the difference was palpable.

“We need to talk,” said Hyunjin tonelessly. “Excuse us.”

Hyunjin motioned at Jeongin and they closed the door. Minho heard the muffled sounds of discussion and let out a huge sigh of relief, leaning against the door. He’d managed to say it, and not fuck up too much.

“Minho, good job,” said Jisung cheerily, giving him a thumbs-up. “I didn’t even have to say anything.”

“That’s if they don’t open the door to tell me to fuck off,” muttered Minho darkly, “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Well, at least you’ve tried now. And Jeongin even forgave you!” offered Jisung, then he slapped Minho’s arm playfully. “Stop being such a pessimist for once.”

The door rustled open.

“Come in,” beckoned Jeongin. Jisung bounded through the door right away, kicking his shoes off as if the place were very familiar to him. It probably was.

Minho lingered in front of the door, unsure if that invitation was extended to him.

“You too,” said Jeongin, with more warmth than Minho expected. “We shouldn’t discuss our problems on the doorstep.” When had Jeongin become so adult-like and wise?

He followed Jeongin to the living room, not too different from his own flat beside the room being way bigger and with better lighting. Jisung was already sinking into one of armchairs and called Minho over next to him.

Hyunjin sat opposite them, making it feel much like an interrogation.

“Jeongin wants to give you another chance,” said Hyunjin in a clipped tone. “I’m not that on board, but I’m willing to go along with him and try. Just don’t fuck it up again because then you’re out of my life for good.”

“That’s more than I expected,” said Minho in a rush, “Thank you, seriously.”

Jeongin smiled back tentatively and they sat there for a moment, lips sealed.

The shrill brass of the doorbell rang through the room. Hyunjin jumped out his chair instantly.

“I’ll go and explain to the guys,” he said matter-of-factly then stepped out the room. Minho hoped it wasn’t because Hyunjin didn’t want to be in the same space as Minho. Was he overthinking it?

No matter the reason, he didn’t have much time to prepare himself before his high school classmates appeared before him.

“You know everyone right?” murmured Jisung, sidling closer than he had before, causing Minho to startle at the hot breath ghosting over his ear.

“I think so,” replied Minho quietly, shuffling away from Jisung subtly as he could manage. “Can you run through it again?”

To his dismay, Jisung simply leaned in again to whisper in his ear.

“Chan’s bringing his boyfriend Hyunwoo, but you know them already, right? Changbin is in 3Racha with me, Felix is the genuinely nice one and Seungmin is the genuinely evil one.”

Minho nodded, his stomach fluttering unpleasantly.

“Minho, my buddy!” cried Chan as he stepped into the living room, making a beeline for him, and swamped him in a big bearhug. “It’s nice to have a get-together like this isn’t it?”

“Y-yeah,” stuttered Minho, overwhelmed. “Good to see you again.”

The living room went from fairly empty to absolutely packed very rapidly. Minho was left to fend for himself as Jisung gave his shoulder a reassuring pat then went bounding over to Chan and Changbin.

“Relax,” he mouthed at Minho and the tightness of his shoulders quelled, if only slightly. If Jisung said so, he would try his best.

*

The reunion was now heading in its usual direction. The catching up and normal chatter was exhausted so a random action film was playing in the background. No one was really watching it besides Jeongin and Felix, but it was drowned out completely by the gamers playing mobile PUBG. Luckily, there were subtitles onscreen.

Minho was not part of either group so he’d wandered over to Jisung again, the two of them squashed in one armchair. He’d made some small talk here and there with everyone and painfully stated several times he’d long since broken up with Jeongyeon. It was going to give him a headache if someone asked one more time.

Hyunjin, true to Jisung’s word had not told anyone about the fight and everyone treated him like an old friend. It was more than Minho expected. Or deserved. He felt like he’d been thrust into the past. With all the familiar faces, it didn’t feel like a day had passed since high school.

“Is it always like this?” Minho said to Jisung, whose phone was out. He was scrolling through Instagram.

“Pretty much,” said Jisung absent-mindedly, more preoccupied with the memes on his feed. “We’re only in stage two now though.”

“Stage two?”

“The alcohol isn’t out yet,” Oh, that was understandable.

“So everyone goes wild later?”

Minho got a nod in return.

“Thank you, Jisung.” He said, once again filled with gratitude.

“Hey, it’s no big deal,” Jisung waved him off although he was failing to hide a smile. He finally slid his phone back into his pocket and turned his full attention to Minho, the two of them falling into conversation.

Stage three commenced when Seungmin, tired of Changbin’s ear-piercing shrieks during the game, got up and retrieved the beers from the fridge and slammed them onto the table. Interest in the game waned and people began gravitating towards the table-cum-bar, adding their own contributions.

Chan and Changbin watched Seungmin bicker with Jeongin with feigned interest for a moment, before turning their attention to Jisung, whom they both regarded with suspicion.

Jisung was _still_ deep in conversation with Minho, the two of them almost in each other’s laps on the one-person armchair.

“I’m not the only one who thinks Jisung’s been talking to Minho for quite a long time?” said Changbin, taking a sip from his glass then scrunching his face up.

“It is kinda sudden for him to bring Minho here,” They lapsed into silence and watched Jisung swing his arm around Minho, watching the latter with rapt attention.

“He certainly doesn’t lean into us like that,” observed Changbin snidely. He seemed to be hinting at something.

“Well, they live together,” reasoned Chan nonchalantly and currently unaware of what Changbin was implying, draining his own cup. “It makes sense that they’re close.”

Behind them, Seungmin was recording Jeongin’s attempt at Tiktok dances. Although Seungmin had started the drinking process, he himself was completely sober. He liked having one over people like that, being the only sober one in a drunk crowd, compiling extensive blackmail material that he guarded proudly.

Changbin levelled Chan with a flat stare.

“We live together too. When have we ever been all cuddly like that?”

“That’s different,” protested Chan, not quite sure what this debate was about but still feeling the need to back up his own side. “Our friendship’s just not like that. If you lived with Felix, you’d probably get cuddles all day.”

Changbin breathed heavily out his nose at that but readjusted his attitude immediately.

“As if Jisung’s a cuddly person,” rebutted Changbin easily. Minho and Jisung relocated from the armchair to the carpet then ventured over together to the drinks. Hyunjin started arguing (as usual) with Jisung over something inconsequential, leaving Minho standing like a lemon, holding his drink awkwardly.

Seungmin immediately trapped Minho into the Tiktok rendition with Felix and Jeongin, who were definitely dancing more sloppily than earlier.

“You know what you’re right,” conceded Chan. “But even so, I’m pretty sure Minho is straight. I hope Jisungie doesn’t catch feelings.”

“Seems too late to me. Our poor Sungie.”

With remarkable timing, Jisung glided over, reuniting the 3Racha trio.

“What’s up,” he said by way of a greeting. “Minho’s coming out of his shell now so I’m gonna let him go mingle.”

“Saw you two have a nice long chat earlier,” said Changbin with the air of a gossiping lady at afternoon tea.

“Uh yeah, I think he was too scared to talk to the others,” Jisung said casually then plopped himself into Changbin’s lap without warning.

“Hey, watch my drink!” yelped Changbin, as the liquid sloshed dangerously to one side.

“Sungie, do you…um…” Chan trailed off with a warning glare from Changbin.

Jisung frowned but said nothing.

“How are you doing with your maths shit?” he asked Changbin, who huffed.

“Fucking hate engineering,” he said then more darkly added on, “And my parents. I hate the damn course and every person on it.”

“Well, you can’t help being blessed and having insane maths skills.”

Changbin rolled his eyes. They all knew how Changbin hated his parents for forcing him to choose another career besides music but there was nothing Jisung could do besides help him get through it.

“Sometimes I wish I could just leave everything behind me and run away, y’know?” said Changbin. “And not have to worry about anything. Just leave society behind.”

“Like live on a remote island?”

“Something like that,” agreed Changbin. “Feel absolutely suffocated with university and my parents.”

“It be like that sometimes,” Jisung held up his cup and they toasted to Changbin’s wise words.

Currently tipsy, Chan dredged up his courage again.

“Do you like Minho?” he asked, directly to Jisung this time.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” shot back Jisung. “He’s dead straight. And I’m just not going that way. Ever.”

Changbin raised one eyebrow and the corner of his mouth lifted in a knowing smirk but that was it. The small gesture spoke volumes, however.

“Don’t be like this,” whined Jisung. “Take this as a warning, I _will_ kick your teeth in.”

A snort.

“Like how you always say you’re going to fight Hyunjin?”

“Shut the fuck up, your face is literally a triangle!”

“One more word, Han Jisung…”

“Pointy-ass chin!”

“You wanna feel how pointy?” threatened Changbin and he reached out for Jisung who leapt away with a scream.

Chan sighed and decided to get up and join the fun. A long night was ahead.

*

“Truth or dare, motherfucker!” cried Felix delightedly, seemingly oblivious to his own cursing. His bright tone suggested he was talking to pre-schoolers, not a bunch of drunken university students.

“Felix,” hissed Jeongin, horrified. “Your bad words are showing.” Felix never swore when sober. Laughter echoed through the living room.

The sky was dark now and cold pizza was sitting in greasy boxes on the kitchen counter, not that it stopped Chan collecting the remaining leftovers and digging in ferociously.

“Babe,” said Hyunwoo, prying the cold, lifeless pizza from Chan’s hands. “You’ve literally eaten a whole pizza already.”

“B-but I want more…” whinged Chan, batting away his boyfriend. “Give me pizza…”

“Get over here already!” hollered Hyunjin, “We’re playing truth or dare!”

Everyone settled into the best circle they could manage in the cramped space and Seungmin (still sober) wielded the empty beer bottle and placed it in the middle.

“We spin and whoever it lands on chooses either a truth or dare,” He paused villainously. “If you decide to forfeit, the next time we go for barbeque, the bill is yours.”

“No, that’s too much!” yelled Jisung, “I’m not a rich bitch like _some_ people!” Hyunjin glowered at him.

What? It was true that Hyunjin was the most loaded after Changbin. But unlike Changbin, he was extremely sensitive about it.

“Or something else of my choosing,” said Seungmin thoughtfully. “Then I’ll pay for the barbeque if you obey me.”

“Either way you’re fucked,” grumbled Jisung, swaying slightly. “OK, let’s get started already!”

“You’re the one who complained about the rules,” Felix said gently. “But fucking hell, let’s get this show on the road,”

“Felix!” said Jeongin despairingly. It was a wonder no one had knocked to complain about the noise yet although there was a large possibility their neighbours had accepted that every now and again, there would be a huge ruckus.

“I’ll give the first truth or dare,” said Seungmin, and there were a few protests that he quickly glared into submission.

Seungmin spun the bottle and light reflected off the green glass, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the ceiling.

Jisung wasn’t the biggest fan of games like Truth or Dare but at least he trusted everyone playing. Either way, he just hoped nothing too intrusive happened. And also for Minho’s sake, that no dark history was brought up.

The bottle slowed and stopped between Jeongin and Hyunjin. The rules were whoever it landed on would give a truth or dare of their choosing to the next person the bottle landed on. But Seungmin already bagged giving the first truth-or-dare, so it was someone’s turn now.

“I’ll do it,” said Hyunjin right away, before Jeongin could say anything. “Dare.”

Seungmin’s smile would have made the devil proud.

“Are you sure?”

There was a small clamouring for Seungmin to hurry up, so he hastily announced his dare, for Hyunjin to one-shot a cocktail of gochujang, vodka and vinegar.

“We should start small then build up or things won’t be exciting,” That was Seungmin’s reason. To be fair, it wasn’t the most extreme dare, but it was fairly disgusting.

Hyunjin gagged as he swallowed the concoction then immediately ran to the sink to wash out his mouth. He returned, wiping his mouth with his hand, still shuddering. Now it was his turn to choose a victim.

It landed on Felix who also chose a dare, brimming with drunken courage. He streaked across the corridor butt-naked under the fluorescent lights, to a mixture of horror and amusement. At least no one walked by to watch. Changbin looked as if he was going to pass out.

Every now and then, Jisung would turn to check how Minho was, watching for any signs of unease, to know if he needed to bail Minho out. But Minho seemed fine, albeit tipsy and venturing into drunk territory.

Jisung himself wasn’t sober, but he wasn’t as far gone as Felix, who was no doubt going to immensely regret his show in the morning.

The next one was Chan, who chose truth and was forced to confess with flaming red ears as Felix asked him what his favourite kinks while giggling menacingly. As menacing as Felix could manage, which was still very cute and friendly.

Next to him, Hyunwoo also looked mortified.

“You never told me you liked the word d-”

Jeongin screamed loudly to drown out his words.

Next was Jisung and he pouted pleadingly at Chan not to be harsh as he chose truth. Unfortunately, the mortification of earlier had got to Chan and he forced Jisung to recount one of his most embarrassing moments that he’d never told anyone, leading to a rendition of a time back in middle school where Jisung tried to see if he was flexible enough to suck his own dick and ended up rolling backward off his bed and fracturing his arm.

“I’m sure everyone’s tried at some point,” grumbled Jisung, drawing his knees protectively as the circle burst out laughing, including Minho who was clutching his sides, gasping for breath. “I’m just clumsy.”

“You just told me you fell!” guffawed Changbin, tearing up with mirth. “Oh, you’re never gonna live that down.”

Jisung wiped the smirk off Changbin’s face pretty quickly when the bottle landed on him. Changbin chose truth, and Jisung pounced.

“Who would you date in this room if you had to? Honestly.”

Changbin had looked down at his lap shyly for a split second before recovering his bravado. Then he just looked rather pissed off.

“Honestly, none of you.” He said straight away, but everyone complained at the boring answer, eventually pushing Changbin to choose Felix, who went strangely quiet and stopped swearing drunkenly. Neither of them seemed that happy after it. Jisung would make sure to clear things up with the two later.

Things got a bit wilder from there, to Hyunjin doing a sexy dance and stripping down to his underwear, Jeongin licking the bottom of someone’s shoe, Seungmin admitting he prank-called the dean before (only Seungmin could have gotten away with that) and Hyunwoo admitting he used to be addicted to smoking before Chan made him quit, which left the atmosphere rather sombre. Everyone had been chosen at some point and thankfully Minho received a truth from Chan, the most illegal thing he had done, which ended up being trashing the car of someone who had attempted to run over some stray kittens he’d found on the road.

“When did that happen?” said Hyunjin, “I don’t remember you ever telling me.”

“Yeah, it was during the summer holidays during third year,” answered Minho, eyes gleaming, “I adopted the stray kittens in the end.” He forgot to mention that his parents made him give them up in a month because they made too much mess in the house. They didn’t like the cat hair getting everywhere. But they were happily living in his noona’s flat.

There was a second round, with the general consensus being those who had done a dare now do a truth and vice versa just to make things more fun. Seungmin was forced to kiss Changbin and they both gagged afterward, looking extremely traumatised. Hyunjin revealed he had a hidden tattoo which only Jeongin knew the location of and that made everyone else gag. Then Felix gave a dare to Minho.

“Minho, I dare you to let one of us kiss you, but you don’t get to know who.” It was a wicked dare, that would have been fine between the eight of them but Jisung wasn’t sure if Minho was up to it. Hyunjin stiffened and exchanged a quiet look with Jeongin.

“You can still forfeit,” Jisung reminded Minho, but the other dismissed the idea, acting as if he hadn’t even heard his suggestion, an odd determination burning in his eyes.

“I’ll do it,” said Minho lightly and accepted the blindfold Felix handed over, which happened to be someone’s tie, most likely Hyunjin’s. “It’s not a big deal.” He then tightly fastened the tie around his eyes.

Felix waved his hands in front of Minho’s face to check he couldn’t see anything, then pretended he was going to slap him. Minho didn’t flinch at all.

“Give us a minute to choose someone,” he said, practically vibrating with anticipation. Everyone looked around, avoiding each other’s eye. There were two couples amongst them already, so excluding them, it left Changbin, Seungmin and Jisung, and Felix.

Jisung was pretty certain Changbin had a crush on Felix and Felix was on the returning end.

“It can be any of us, even the couples!” called Felix, startling Jisung, then giving the group a wink to indicate it was a bluff for Minho. He wouldn’t know the group dynamics that well.

“Got it,” called Minho from his spot on the floor. He sounded relaxed, but when Jisung swept his eyes over Minho, he saw that the knuckles of his hands were white. Of course it couldn’t be that easy.

And then he understood. In ways, it was a test. If Minho kicked up a fuss, it would make things weird. If Minho went with it, he could gain back some of Hyunjin’s faith in him and show he didn’t care about possibly ‘gay’ actions. Accordingly, Hyunjin’s mouth hung open slightly, evidently surprised by Minho’s flippant attitude.

Jisung didn’t want it to be Changbin or Felix because it could mess up the weird little dynamic they had going on. So it should either be him or Seungmin. But Seungmin couldn’t do it because…

Because…

He didn’t have a reason. There was in fact no legitimate reason, no excuse that meant Seungmin should not kiss Minho.

But to his horror, Jisung realised he simply didn’t want Seungmin to kiss Minho. He did not want any of his friends to do something intimate like that with Minho. Which was why Jisung jabbed his thumb at himself repeatedly, giving the signal that he’d do it. He didn’t miss the meaningful look Changbin and Chan sent his way but purposefully chose to ignore it.

Felix gave him an ‘OK’ signal and got Minho to stand up and spin a circle a few times to disorientate him and make it harder for him to tell who it’d be.

So Jisung was going to kiss Minho. Was that okay? Could he do that?

But no, he argued to himself. It wasn’t because he wanted to kiss Minho himself that he volunteered. Minho was clearly uncomfortable but he was trying his best to make up with Hyunjin. Out of everyone here, Jisung was confident Minho was most comfortable with him so in the event Minho found out, it might make Minho feel more relieved.

_It was for Minho’s sake._

Not because he wanted to.

But Seungmin could do it too. That wily bastard probably didn’t want to though, right? And Jisung was already here as a willing volunteer.

Fuck, Jisung had no excuses. Right now, with the thrum of alcohol flowing through him, it was appealing. That was all. He wanted to know how Minho’s lips would feel against his.

The drinking had not stopped during the course of the game, rather it had increased rapidly. It was the only thing that made the collective humiliation and embarrassment bearable. Jisung had a pretty high alcohol tolerance but even he was drunk enough to lose some of his rationality right now.

Sober Jisung could psychoanalyse himself later, but for now, Drunk Jisung was acting purely on his own instincts, refusing to consider the implications of anything.

“Someone’s coming now,” announced Seungmin. “Drum roll, please.”

Everyone drummed the floor with their hands, much to the despair of the people living the floor below them. Dust was probably falling on their heads.

Jisung tiptoed across the wooden floor to Minho and made sure not to do anything that could give himself away, such as touching Minho anywhere, not even a poke.

Excitement and tension pulsed in the air together. The ones who didn’t know about Minho and Hyunjin’s fight anticipated what was becoming the highlight of Truth and Dare and those who knew watched nervously. Hyunjin was watching Jisung intently, not bothering to hide the worry in his expression.

It was okay. It really wasn’t a big deal, Jisung was only going to give Minho a peck, like what he would do for his grandma every year, but on the lips.

It wasn’t like Jisung or Minho had never kissed someone before.

_But it’s Minho’s first time kissing a man, isn’t it?_

When Jisung was about a foot from Minho, blood drumming in his ears, before he fully thought through just exactly what he was about to do, he stretched upwards and leaned in, lightly pressing his warm lips to Minho’s dry ones.

Jisung felt Minho gasp, parting his lips, causing Jisung to lean further in to properly slot their lips together. Instinctively, Jisung sucked lightly at Minho’s lips, closing his own eyes.

To his immense amazement, Minho kissed back with enthusiasm, lips now moist, his hands rising to Jisung’s shoulders. It was as if he’d forgotten the audience watching them.

Before Minho could touch him and risk finding out who it was, Jisung pulled backwards and hastily wiped his mouth, praying his lips looked untouched.

Kissing Minho had been undeniably good.

A wave of regret washed over Jisung as he stumbled back to his place in the circle, dazed. He pushed the emotions away; they were for Sober Jisung to agonize over.

He schooled his expression carefully as Felix started untying the blindfold. Under no circumstances could Minho ever know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jisung thinks he's taking Minho's first non-straight kiss...little does he know! Haha
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it, love you all!


	8. Breathing But I've Been Dying Inside

As soon as Minho felt a light pressure on his lips, the shrieks and wolf-whistles erupted around him. A bizarre feeling trickled like cold water through his body, spine-tingling yet pleasant, making his knees soften like jelly.

The kiss was filled with fireworks and Minho gasped, taken aback at how much better it was than he thought, then it should feel. A tsunami washed through his mind, sweeping it clean and the next thing Minho knew, he was responding eagerly, about to pull the person in front of him closer - and that was when they stepped away

Minho tugged off his blindfold in a hurry, wanting to catch the culprit. His heart was thumping like he’d ran ten kilometres in one go. He realised belatedly everyone had seen his performance, how obviously forward he had been and shame piled up in his stomach, climbing all the way to his throat. The shame made it impossible for him to look at anyone, let alone scan their faces.

“Let’s end it here,” announced Hyunwoo, taking his role as the oldest person in the room seriously. Minho thanked god he was responsible. He wanted to leave. _Now._ “Before we end up blowing the whole building up.”

There was a chorus of groans with sighs of relief mixed in. Minho was still standing, rooted to the spot, utterly disgusted with himself and unable to shake the tingling in his lips.

He couldn’t even summon the courage to check Hyunjin’s expression, even though that was the whole reason he’d agreed to this stupid dare. To prove he wasn’t the same person he was in high school.

Why was he so affected by this? Standing there dumbly like a giant idiot – for fuck’s sake, casual kissing was a staple of drinking games, they hardly mattered. So he shouldn’t feel so affected.

So why the fuck did it feel so good?

_Because there’s something fucking wrong with you. Fucking disgusting bastard._

Minho didn’t know why but panic was settling in readily. He didn’t like it. He didn’t, he didn’t at all. It was only because he was drunk. He would never do it consciously. But he shouldn’t have done it at all, ever.

No. Not here, not now.

With enormous effort, he shakily inhaled deeply and pinched the skin of his arm hard, hard enough to come back to his senses.

“Do I really not get to know?” he said with forced laughter. Felix grinned mischievously back at him and shook his head.

“One day,” he promised, “When we know it won’t make things awkward.”

“You’ll probably forget about it anyway,” said Seungmin, “Kissing Changbin is an experience I’m going to wipe from my memory as quickly as I can.”

There was no way Minho could forget about the kiss.

The party was drawing to its finale and at one o’clock in the morning, everyone started heading back.

Minho wandered absentmindedly to the mess of coats and shoes by the door, so distracted he didn’t see Hyunjin follow him out of the living room, so he jumped a little when Hyunjin said his name.

“Hyunjin?” Hyunjin looked shifty and watched the coats as if a mouse were going to jump out from the pile.

“You didn’t have to go that far to prove a point to me, if that was what you were doing,” said Hyunjin hurriedly. “If it was uncomfortable for you, I’m sorry. But I do believe in you more now.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” said Minho tersely, fishing his and Jisung’s coats out from the pile. “It really doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Assuming the conversation was over, Minho turned to head back to the living room to retrieve Jisung.

“A-are you sure?” said Hyunjin. Shit. Of course, Hyunjin couldn’t be oblivious, he knew Minho better than Minho knew himself sometimes. “It’s okay if you didn’t dislike it…”

Minho let out a snort.

“Trust me, Jinnie, I wouldn’t be bothered by a kiss from anyone here…unless it was you or Jeongin,” he added. “Then that would be kind of messed up, don’t you think?”

“It wasn’t either of us,” said Hyunjin immediately then he cursed. “Oh, you’re clever.”

Minho could now eliminate two possible suspects. Only six remained. Intuitively, Minho hadn’t been thinking it was likely to be either of them anyway. His mind kept drifting to one person in particular.

“I’ll find out who it is somehow,” He tried to keep his tone light. “I want to praise their technique.” It was supposed to be sarcastic but didn’t quite come out that way.

Hyunjin looked unconvinced by Minho’s lukewarm response and was about to say something when Jisung interrupted them.

“Oh, you got my coat? Thanks, dude.” Jisung pushed himself between them, kneeling to find his trainers. “Aren’t you glad I dragged you here now?”

“It was fun,” admitted Minho reluctantly.

Hyunjin nodded beside him.

“I don’t know how you pulled it off, but it worked out,” he said and leaned in to give Minho a one-armed bro hug. “Don’t be a stranger from now.”

There was heartfelt warmth in Hyunjin’s eyes. Minho’s chest squeezed, unused to the affection from his ex-best friend. Maybe one day he could be worthy of the title of Hyunjin’s best friend again.

“I won’t,” Minho promised, waving goodbye as he left Hyunjin and Jeongin’s place with Jisung in tow.

*

It was rather chilly once they were out of the building, their path home illuminated only by the street lights and the hues of yellow and orange escaping from windows with drawn curtains. University students didn’t have time for sleep. Every time Minho exhaled, his breath condensed like dragon’s breath in front of him.

For a while, Jisung huffed as hard as he could, materialising puffs of white in front of him as they walked.

Minho perused Jisung’s face, which was still flushed with alcohol. They had sobered up now and neither of them were stumbling all over the place, but still warm and fuzzy inside.

“I’ve said it already, but thanks for all your help today,” said Minho. Their shoulders brushed gently.

“I was helping myself, really,” said Jisung bluntly, leaving Minho bewildered. “My motives were selfish.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I thought it would be nice if you were friends with all my friends and then we could all be friends together. So it wasn’t for you, it was for me.” Jisung explained with a straight face. He seemed completely serious, there wasn’t an ounce of joking in his voice.

Minho snorted and watched the moths gather around one of the streetlights, flying to their impending doom.

“That’s unexpectedly wholesome, coming from the edge lord himself.” 

“That’s more Changbin actually. ‘I love dark’ aesthetic and all that…but he’s actually soft as butter.”

A few minutes later, they arrived at the elevator of their building. The reception was empty, except for the unfortunate receptionist who had been assigned to the night shift, keeled over the desk struggling to hold their eyes open. An obligatory plastic pumpkin was at the desk for a seasonal touch.

Jisung and Minho walked the short path through the lobby, basking in the warmth of central heating.

“Can I ask you a question?” asked Minho as they stepped into the elevator.

“You just did.”

“Can you tell me who kissed me?” He watched Jisung intently, looking for any tells that indicated he was lying.

“I would but…” Jisung gave him a peace sign filled with aegyo. “It wouldn’t be fun if I told you!”

Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“We’re close friends now, aren’t we though?” tried Minho. “You won’t do a favour for your new best friend?”

Jisung pretended to consider it.

“Nah, Changbin and Chan are my _best_ best friends, only they have that privilege.”

“Can you at least tell me if it was you or not?” Minho attempted in vain.

“It wasn’t!” exclaimed Jisung dramatically, “…or was it?” Concerned eyes were directed his way.

“Don’t keep yourself up thinking about it though, we’ve done a lot of kisses as dares between us.”

“Right back at you,” replied Minho teasingly, “Don’t get jealous.”

“Ha!” cried Jisung and then the elevator doors slid open.

Minho gave up on cracking Jisung for now and they said goodnight to each other and headed to their respective rooms.

Once in his room and alone, it was a whole other story. His mind was now free to attack him.

He was pacing the room frantically, trying to eliminate who it wasn’t and who it could have been. It was an itch he _needed_ to scratch. It wasn’t Hyunjin or Jeongin and it didn’t seem like it was Jisung because he was an atrocious liar. But he just didn’t know who else it could be. Their faces spun through his mind on a roulette wheel, but he didn’t want any of the options presented there.

The buzz of alcohol completely gone; repulsion crawled up his throat as Minho thought back to the kiss. 

He collapsed on top of his bed, dragging his hands over his face, and resisted the urge to scream loudly. As Minho sank down into the mattress, the phantom sensation of lips against his caused him furiously to scrub at his lips in despair. He pulled at the loose skin hanging on his dry lips and ripped hard, relishing in the sting.

Why did it feel better than any kiss he’d had before, better than with Jeongyeon…even better than that entire Joshua fiasco?

And if it had to be someone, why would Minho prefer for it to be Jisung?

“Fuck off,” hissed Minho at himself, but the voices in his head wouldn’t stop speculating. At this point he was digging his nails into his scalp and raking them downwards hard, focusing on the pain. But he could hear every word of his traitorous mind, like chimes ringing too brightly and high-pitched.

_Why do you_ want _it to be Jisung?_

No, no. It wasn’t happening. Obviously, it was because he was on best terms with Jisung out of everybody there.

It was a logical thing to wish. Jisung was Minho’s best friend, the person he trusted most right now. So naturally, Minho would be most comfortable doing something intimate with him out of everyone. He wasn’t dumb enough to think _he_ was Jisung’s best friend and that his best-friend feelings were returned. He was only a good friend at most to Jisung. It was absurd that Minho would want Jisung to kiss him for any other reason.

_You’re only saying that because you’ve been alone for so long, you crave affection that anyone flings at you._

It was impossible to try and sleep now, every time Minho shut his eyes, his mind would light up like a billboard, displaying various scenarios – Jisung stepping towards him and reaching out…

He opened his eyes to watch the ceiling instead but like an unwanted projector, images cast themselves onto the ceiling, crowding his vision. With fumbling hands, Minho pulled his textbooks out his bag and slammed them onto his desk – he just needed something to focus on, to occupy his thoughts right now.

But he was too exhausted to think about anything academic, so he scrolled through his phone as the next solution, hardly taking in anything because his mind was still racing.

No one had tried to do as much for Minho as Jisung had for a while – that was surely why his mind was acting like he was attracted to Jisung or something. Because Jisung had shown Minho undeserved respect. 

It wasn’t Jisung’s fault that Minho was pathetic to the point that he obsessed over anyone who was nice to him. No, there was nothing wrong with Jisung, it was all on Minho for being such a creep, misconstruing friendship with romantic feelings. He appreciated Jisung so much, his mind mistook it for actual feelings. He didn’t actually like Jisung in that sense – he wasn’t _gay_ – Minho was just so goddamn lonely.

He felt lonely and unwanted so his subconscious latched onto Jisung, it made perfect sense.

“It’s not because I like guys,” he muttered and tossed his phone onto his bed, unable to distract himself.

Fuck. Minho felt so exposed, the area around his collarbones itching below his skin, raw and vulnerable. It made him want to claw his flesh to ribbons.

He raised a hand and laid it over his chest, massaging it to diffuse the prickle under his skin. His room felt too small, making it difficult for him to breathe and when Minho caught sight of the illuminated street outside his window, he was far too high up, as if he were precariously balancing on a tightrope.

That was when Minho retched, and rushed out his room to the toilet, feeling bile rise in his throat. He knelt over the porcelain bowl, gagging but only water came out, no acid stinging his throat. This time, he knew it wasn’t because he was drunk, it was something else.

By now, Minho’s eyes were watering and the inside of his mouth felt horrible. He washed out his mouth then forced his feet into his trainers, leaving the apartment.

It felt too cramped inside. And he still felt dizzy, as if he were swaying – he needed to go down, go outside right now, get on the ground.

When Minho pushed open the door and left the building, the cold night air whipped refreshingly over his forehead, damp with sweat.

It was maybe two in the morning, but it was Sunday tomorrow so Minho could afford to sleep in. He found that he didn’t really give two shits about what was happening next, he was pretty sure he could have morning lectures and still feel this detached.

He was thankful for the night, the dark sky. It made him feel safe, hidden from the prying eyes of people in the daytime. No one would take notice of him limply walking down the street. To them, he was just another idiot drunk off his ass.

If someone passed by, they couldn’t see the taut line of his jaw or the tension in his shoulders.

He just needed to clear up his thoughts to himself and convince himself that he wasn’t attracted to men, much less Jisung. He wasn’t the one who needed convincing, it was the voice that haunted him, saying otherwise with crude mocking comments. Then again, that voice was still him, a figment of his conscience speaking to him.

_How many more times are you going to mess up_?

This was a new voice, joining the usual one, scathing in its tone. Minho crouched down, by the side of a building, completely cloaked in shadows and wrapped his hands around his knees.

“Shut up,” he whispered. “Shut up, shut up, shut up…”

Over and over he repeated it, even if it were in vain because in the end, he would always hear it, would always be forced to listen to the voices, drilling into him on and on.

_You kissed someone tonight…and then there was Joshua back at another party._

Minho knew, oh he knew – they were mistakes! All mistakes! They were meaningless - people didn’t know what they were doing when they were drunk.

_In vino veritas, my friend._

In wine there is truth.

Minho disagreed. He didn’t care what some old Roman had spouted centuries ago.

_You can’t disagree with me, I am you._

“Yes I can,” he said but his voice lacked conviction and it was weak.

_You’re forgetting what happened in first year._

The memory was still vivid and bright as the day it happened.

*

It had been an awful day on all counts. The coffee stain on the corner of his shirt, the change that had rolled out his hand and under the vending machine. All the small things that could possibly go wrong had gone wrong.

Minho sat in the café with Jeongyeon, frigid silence between them. The coffee was getting cold, but Minho felt rooted to the spot, unable to reach for another sip of his Americano. Her short hair had grown past her shoulders now, dyed to a light brown. Minho had made sure to mention it when she arrived. But the good mood generated from his compliment had long since dissipated.

“Why do you even ask me to come meet up with you if you’re going to be like this?” Jeongyeon had eventually snapped at him. “I spent one hour on the bus to get here.”

Minho wanted to tell her he was all jumbled up and wrong inside but he couldn’t bring himself to. Jeongyeon was under the impression he was stressed from the mountain of work and Minho didn’t her to think anything else. That there was something _wrong_ with him.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t feel good today.” Jeongyeon looked as if she was waiting for an explanation, expression slightly softened, but it never came.

“What do you want to do then? We can just go back to your dorm and chill if that’s what you want,” said Jeongyeon carefully. Minho couldn’t tell if that was meant to be a code for something else. Either way he wasn’t feeling it.

Minho’s chair screeched as he stood up abruptly.

“No, you came all the way here to see me. You wanted to see the shops here, right? Let’s go.”

*

“Minho, I can’t deal with you when you’re like this!” said Jeongyeon pleadingly. They were in his room and Minho was sitting stone-faced on his bed as his girlfriend berated him.

The day had started going well, but Minho ruined the mood like always. He’d been doing that a lot recently. He’d tried his best to inject enthusiasm into his voice when Jeongyeon came out twirling in her dress but there’d been something a little askew in his tone that she’d picked up on. Everything was a little misplaced for him, but too slight for him to find what it was and adjust it. The axis of the world was simply a few degrees off today.

There were several shopping bags strewn on the floor and Minho wondered what had possessed him to ask Jeongyeon over again after the fiasco that was last time.

So maybe he had asked if she could go back instead of staying the night as planned?

“When I’m acting like what?” said Minho dully. There was no energy in him to argue.

“These mood swings you keep having! One minute you want to see me, the next you want me gone! Do I have to come at your beck and call when it suits you?” snapped Jeongyeon then caught a hold of herself. “I know you have a lot of work as a medical student and I’m trying to be understanding, I really am, but I deserve to be treated better than that.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jeongyeon sighed, visibly frustrated. Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes but she blinked them away furiously.

“You always say that, but I can’t tell if you mean it anymore. You say that word so many times it’s become meaningless to me.”

“I’m-” he paused, “-really sorry, Jeongyeon.”

He couldn’t say anything else.

That did the trick though.

“Fine, fuck you!” spat Jeongyeon, tone dangerously cold. “You asked me to come so I did, now you want me gone! Okay! Okay, I get it! I’m fucking leaving, like what you wanted. Just don’t think I’m coming back for a while till you sort your shit out.”

When she caught sight of Minho, still motionless on the bed, the only sign of frustration the crease between his brows, Jeongyeon stormed up to him and for a moment Minho thought she was going to slap him.

“Do you even care about us anymore?” she whispered, “Because sometimes I don’t feel like you’re here even when you’re right next to me.”

“I’m sorry for wasting your time,” Mino replied in a small voice. “I’ll pay for your trip here. And the meal. I wish it could have been fun, really.”

“You do that then,” Jeongyeon retorted abrasively but no one rose to meet her challenge. With a pitying gaze, Jeongyeon collected her shopping bags and strode out his room.

So she had noticed he felt like he didn’t exist half the time?

*

Neon lights blinded Minho as he stumbled to the bar and collapsed with his full weight onto the counter. Going clubbing after Jeongyeon left hadn’t seemed wise but Minho was tired of being sensible for once.

He could barely see straight, slapping cash over the counter over and over for drinks until a well-meaning bartender had refused to serve him anymore because he was well and utterly sozzled.

“Hey buddy, you alright?” said a thin, scraping voice. Minho located the source amidst the thumping bass. Someone his age, with cat-like eyes was watching him intently.

“I-I’m fine,” said Minho, aware his speech was slightly slurred. “Who are you?”

“I could tell you my full name or you could just call me Ten.” Ten looked amused as Minho pushed himself up off of the counter and nearly planted face-first into the floor.

Some of the fogginess of Minho’s mind cleared as he next became aware of himself on the dance floor with Ten, who moved with sharp practiced gracefulness. Minho wasn’t sure what his limbs were doing, but it couldn’t have been that bad, with the way Ten’s eyes never left him. They swayed to the beat, getting closer and closer together till warning bells were beginning to ring in Minho’s ears.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” blurted Minho.

“Because you’re nice to look at,” Ten simply replied, dark eyes glittering. Minho didn’t think. He was coated in sweat, rolling down his temple and dripping off his chin. His shirt clung to his sides uncomfortably. It was so humid amidst the thicket of bodies.

He gulped, filled with trepidation and morbid curiosity. One step closer and he would be chest to chest with Ten.

“You too.” Minho breathed and let his feet take him forwards.

*

They stumbled into Ten’s room. As soon as the door swung shut, Minho immediately pushed Ten onto the bed and kissed him hungrily, hands tracing the curve of Ten’s shoulder, stroking his collarbone. It felt so good, a hundred times better than with Jeongyeon.

_Jeongyeon._

Horrified, Minho leapt off Ten. He was making a mistake. A colossal mistake of huge proportions.

Ten looked at him curiously, questioning Minho silently. It was unfair how composed he looked, while five hundred kinds of conflict raced through Minho.

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry,” Minho blabbered, “God, I don’t know what I’m doing, I-I’m not gay, I have a girlfriend!” He leant against the wall boneless, he should leave now.

He needed to leave before he did something he would regret for the rest of his life.

Ten hummed nonchalantly.

“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?” he said pointedly, gaze flitting over Minho’s swollen lips and tousled hair. “If you’ve already gone this far?”

Minho had not expected Ten to be someone with a rigid moral compass but the way Ten remained unruffled by Minho’s declaration of a girlfriend surprised him. Ten didn’t seem to mind he was with a cheater, a straight guy even.

“I should leave,” said Minho out loud, more to himself than anything. Everything in the room had eyes and was watching him, from the books lining the shelves to the acoustic guitar in the corner.

“You probably should,” said Ten, not unkindly. He seemed a tad sympathetic and waited for Minho to make up his mind. “You can change your mind, I’m not forcing you to stay…or do anything you don’t want to.”

“I’m not gay,” Minho continued, sliding to the ground hopelessly. “I should leave, shouldn’t I?”

“It’s up to you,” said Ten. He stayed sprawled across the bed and wiped his face, smudging some of his eyeliner across his face like a bruise. “I don’t even know your name, actually.”

“It’s Minho.”

Minho finally stood up and made an aborted attempt to open the door. As if possessed he turned back to face Ten, who was waiting patiently.

“I’m straight,” said Minho and it came out as a plea. It wasn’t Ten he was trying to persuade. “I’m drunk too.”

Ten clucked his tongue pityingly. “You poor closeted dude. You’re so far back in, it’s not even funny.”

Here he was, in a stranger’s bedroom, cheating on his girlfriend of two years. His girlfriend who had stuck with him through thick and thin but was struggling to find a reason to want Minho now.

“I wish I was drunk,” he breathed and that was when Minho climbed onto the narrow mattress and knelt in all fours over Ten. He captured his lips once more and everything fell away.

Time blurred over and then they were both shirtless, Minho pretending he was drunk. If he exaggerated the slur of his words, worsened his coordination, no one had to know.

Perhaps it didn’t really matter because Ten could see right through him anyway.

Minho was aware he could still leave but there was something freeing in the way he could lose himself in Ten’s touch. The door barely registered in his mind as Ten’s mouth, hot and wet traced over him.

“Minho, are you sure you want to do this?”

Minho answered by kissing Ten even harder, hands wandering from Ten’s waist to even lower down.

“Do you want to fuck me? Or the other way round?” asked Ten, “I’m fine with either.”

“Fuck me,” Minho demanded, cheeks flaming, despite the nature of their actions.

“Oh really?” said Ten, eyebrows raised. “I thought you were straight?”

That made Minho laugh, although it was not remotely funny.

“Are you gonna fuck me or not?” Minho challenged, ignoring Ten’s words.

Maybe it was weird for Minho not to take the traditionally ‘straight’ role. But he wasn’t sure if he could handle looking down on Ten and keep excited at the sight of flat chests, defined muscles, and another man’s junk. Or rather, not lose his nerve and run for the hills.

On the receiving end, Minho could just lie there and take it. If it was bad, well he was probably straight and this was a one-time mistake. If it was good, it didn’t mean anything. Sex was meant to be good, wasn’t it? Sex was just sex. It meant nothing. There were no feelings involved. It was just physical interaction between two strangers. He and Ten were just two strangers looking for entertainment. Two ships passing in the night. By tomorrow, they would be worlds apart and probably never see each other again.

It didn’t matter that much in the end, this very situation felt like something out of an alternate universe.

So as Ten slid into him carefully, Minho told himself it didn’t feel good. It was weird and foreign, his muscles trying to squeeze out the intruder. He would forget this later anyway. He would make himself forget. The next thing on his agenda was to take enough shots to blackout and erase this night from his mind. Minho couldn’t be guilty about something he didn’t remember.

He would forget the heat of someone inside him, the white-hot pleasure, how Minho moaned brokenly and drooled as Ten pounded him into the mattress, losing control of himself, and the feeling of Ten holding him in the aftermath, lean muscled arms around him.

It was nothing but a drunk mistake.

*

Now these memories hit him with the force of a freight train. Minho cradled his head in his hands, wondering how things had ever come to this. A saying went like this – once is chance, twice is a coincidence and third time is a pattern.

He wondered how he’d slipped up again with Joshua. Then the mystery kisser who was growing more Jisung-shaped with every thought.

They were nothing more than drunk mistakes, but how they plagued his mind.

Utterly exhausted, Minho let his eyelids slide shut, head resting on the cool concrete of the building.

_They’re just mistakes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh yeah, this is my first time writing 18+ stuff into a fic. Pray to the Lord it wasn't too bad. Um, so somehow TenMinho became a brief thing. Don't ask me how it happened, I don't even know. 
> 
> sorry this is one day late, as a med student I am indeed drowning in work and currently 10 lectures behind so...Minho's pain is partly mine too.
> 
> Hope you enjoy,  
> besthonestliar x
> 
> PS has anyone noticed where all the chapter titles are coming from by any chance?


	9. Am I Really The Only One?

Jisung did not set out to be deliberately edgy, contrary to popular belief. Even if he was loud, he really had not thought he was saying something super controversial.

In Jisung’s first year, he had mustered up his courage and went along with Chan to the LGBTQ+ society at university. In theory, it was ideal. Jisung could make a few friends and talk to people who would understand him, right?

Chan was excellent at socialising; this was a known fact. It was also a known fact Jisung was quite the opposite. Which was why he had meekly tagged along with Chan and followed him to the first meeting, intent on using Chan as an extrovert shield if necessary.

There were a handful of people inside, more than Jisung had expected. Someone had gone to the lengths of draping the room in rainbow flags, and he appreciated the effort.

They were ushered into sitting down at the many tables in the room by a scary-looking girl who was apparently one of the organisers.

“We’ll start with icebreakers,” said someone from the front tiredly, a boy with eyebags almost as deep as Chan’s. “Just your name, course, and your sexuality if you’re comfortable with sharing it. Oh, and a fun fact about you.”

Metaphorical beads of sweat rolled down Jisung’s temple. Icebreakers were possibly the worst thing known to man to ever exist.

They started off the opposite side of the room to Jisung, so thankfully he had time to try and come up with something plausible. Chan squeezed Jisung’s thigh comfortingly and mouthed ‘don’t worry’ at him. That calmed him slightly.

People began introducing themselves, all rather ordinary although one guy stood out, only because he introduced himself as ‘Ten’.

“Hi everyone!” said Chan, beaming winningly, dimples on full blast. “I’m Chan and I take Music Composition. I’m bi and I have a boyfriend right now.”

The smiles of several people dimmed at the word ‘boyfriend’.

A fun fact about me is…my arms are double-jointed!” He proceeded to show off his ‘seagull’ arms, much to everyone’s amusement.

Jisung groaned internally. Why did Chan have to be so good at introducing himself?

“H-hi,” he started quietly, _why did his voice sound so weird_. He repeated it louder and his voice cracked.

Luckily, no one was mean enough to comment, although unbeknownst to Jisung, it was because of Chan’s fiercely protective glare.

“I’m Jisung and I take Music Composition with Chan…I don’t really label myself because I think sexuality is fluid, y’know.”

The temperature in the room appeared to drop a few degrees. Someone coughed in the silence, making it even worse.

“A fun fact about me is I almost got eaten by a crocodile in Malaysia,” Jisung bravely soldiered on and felt the air rush out of him as he slumped back in his chair, burying his face in Chan’s shoulder. Why was there a weird silence when he spoke? Jisung didn’t think he’d said anything that bad, really. To Jisung, he didn’t really know what type of person he would be attracted to, so he had no way to label it. To spend hours trying to figure it out was an unnecessary headache.

After the icebreakers, the leaders went through a presentation of the activities and socials planned, then they were free to mingle.

Several people made a beeline for Chan, who was as approachable as a small puppy and he immediately got captured in conversation. This left Jisung without any opportunities to wedge himself in without making everything awkward.

Well, he could listen in from where he was sitting. When the opportunity presented itself, maybe he could jump in.

A few minutes passed and the topic passed over to the café event that had been presented earlier. Jisung still couldn’t think of a way to join in but he also didn’t have the nerve to start a conversation with a stranger.

He looked around the room in dismay to see everyone else had pretty much split off into small groups and were all chatting away and he was the only isolated fellow in the middle of it all.

Great.

He accidentally made eye contact with the scary girl from earlier as he scanned the room and turned right back around, gulping.

It was too late. She was leaving her huddle with the other leaders and walking towards him as Jisung’s insides shrivelled in fear.

“You’re Jisung, right?” she said. She wasn’t scary because she had piercings or vibrantly dyed hair of the sort, but because of the steely glint of her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s me,” said Jisung, facing her but never quite glancing into her eyes directly. God, if only he could remember her name. He deployed his tactics. “You’re…what was your name again?”

“I’m Lina,” she said, eyebrows raised. “I introduced myself earlier.”

“Oh my god, my bad,” gasped Jisung with a wince, “I meant to ask you your last name? Of course I know your name’s Lina.” The trick was he would lie and pretend it was the last name he asked for. It worked like a charm every time.

“That’s a nice trick, pity it didn’t work,” Lina remarked, with the barest hint of a smile. “I don’t really care if you know my name or not.”

Jisung smiled sheepishly, caught out. Girls were so scary sometimes. He didn’t quite know what to say next.

“What you said earlier was interesting, you don’t label yourself?” Lina asked. She was still incredibly intimidating, even if she spoke with a soft, breathy voice. Well, she’d been the very person who said this was a safe space.

“I mean, I’ve been attracted to mainly men so far but I wouldn’t call myself gay.” Jisung admitted slowly, then he gained courage. “I just don’t care about the labels…If I like someone, I just like them, right? For me, I feel like sexuality is a whole spectrum that can fluctuate over your life, so I wouldn’t bother picking a label if it changes.”

“Technically, doesn’t that make you pansexual?” Lina superciliously crossed her arms. “Besides, humans have labels for a reason. So many people have told me how relieved they’ve felt when there was a name for how they felt.”

“I’m not saying labels are bad, I’m not trying to take them away from anyone.” Jisung backtracked, hands raised, “They’re just not for me, personally. Everyone is free to do what they want.”

He hesitated over whether he should continue sharing his opinion, but there was a small spark of irritation chipping away at him inside, annoyed by Lina’s comment. He could speak if he wanted to, political correctness be damned. His nerves from earlier were replaced by a fire in his veins so he opened his mouth again.

“I get the value of labels for other people; if it helps them come to terms with their identity and they’re common words we can all use to describe ourselves. Maybe other labels and terms fit me, but I just _don’t care._ I don’t feel the need to define my sexuality as this or that, just like how some people don’t care about their star signs or MBTI type.”

Dead silence followed as Jisung realised belatedly nearly everyone was listening to his passionate outburst.

“How can you say that though?” someone retorted hotly. Jisung couldn’t remember their name. “Do you even see how privileged you sound? There are people getting attacked every day for choosing to identify themselves as LGBT but you’re just dithering or refusing to identify yourself and looking down on them!”

“That’s right,” a boy added, looking at Jisung as if he were something unpleasant, like a crushed grape under his shoe. “If someone doesn’t have a label for something or takes a label that doesn’t fit, you end up lying to yourself and hurting your mental health. And sexuality is a whole lot more than something like your star sign!”

“Hey, don’t twist my words!” said Jisung indignantly. “I literally said there’s nothing wrong with labels! But my sexuality is personal, it’s not always about everyone, it’s about me-”

Once again, Jisung endangered himself by opening his mouth at the wrong time in the wrong place to the wrong people.

“It’s all about you?” Lina cut him off and smiled, in a condescending way. “We’re a LGBTQ+ society here, Jisung. We’re part of a larger community. When you don’t see yourself as heterosexual, when you become part of the community, you can’t cut yourself off from the community by saying you don’t care.”

A few people clapped approvingly. Jisung felt like he was trapped, being pulled in a certain direction to say something irredeemably incriminating.

“I’m still an ally of the community,” Jisung argued back, “T-that’s why I’m here! I’m just saying I do my own thing – I can do things and enjoy them without knowing the term for it, like-like-” He floundered for a second, “Like how I can eat a dish without knowing what it’s made of but still enjoy it. I’m not saying determining your own gender and sexuality isn’t important but for me, I don’t feel the need to determine my gender, or what gender or sex I’m attracted to.”

“I can’t agree with that,” a girl piped up. “It makes up so much of your identity, it’s who you are. You should really figure yourself and find a word that describes it instead of saying you don’t have a sexuality because everyone else does.”

“Yeah, your take sounds like you’re saying there are too many labels. If people make up their own, at least you can find out what it means and know how to treat them, that’s how we got the broadest LGBT terms.”

Jisung was being verbally assaulted from all sides of the room, besides Chan who was blinking at Jisung, looking dumbfounded. Well, he wasn’t the only one who was dumbfounded. The argument was shifting away from his initial point already to something out of Jisung’s hands. There seemed to little point in arguing back and beating a dead horse, but Jisung wasn’t about to stop defending himself. The rebuttals towards him kept going.

“There aren’t even that many new terms, if you have a hard time keeping track of it, then _you_ have issues.”

“If someone creates their own labels to accept themselves, it doesn’t make their label any less valid if it defines them.” There was a shift of formation in the room, Jisung being the only one sitting in his chair at the table, a group of people around him and Chan hovering in between them, looking troubled.

Something snapped slightly in Jisung and he stood up, a jarring noise emitting from the chair as it scraped across the floor and he propped himself so he was sitting on the table.

“Look,” he said loudly, drowning out everyone’s murmuring. “Everyone is different and everyone has a right to whatever labels they want. Doesn’t that mean I have a right to not be pressured into choosing a label if I’m fine without one? I keep up with most of the LGBT terms,”

He took a deep breath and knew he’d reached the point of no return. From how everyone had reacted earlier, he was pretty sure he was about to be trampled for what he was going to say next. But the heat in his blood made him indifferent. Fuck this, he would say what he wanted then get the hell out.

_Safe space, my ass._

Jisung proceeded to drop his hot take.

“A label is meaningless if you have to explain it to everyone. It’s all fantastic if you have labels and you feel welcomed in whatever groups you’re in. I don’t think there are too many labels, but I think it’s plausible that the more obscure a label is, the less it is actually able to function as a label.”

Silence swept through them once again. Several people looked confused about what he was trying to say at all.

Jisung felt short of breath, the blood thrumming in his ears almost drowning out what happened next.

“Why are you even here if you’re just going to attack everyone here and try and project your own views onto us?” said Lina, disgust creeping into her voice. “This is a meant to be a safe space for people who identify as LGBTQ+ and any allies, but you’re taking advantage of that and spreading your own agenda and invalidating our beliefs.”

“Maybe you should look up the definition of a safe space,” snapped Jisung finally, losing the thread completely. “I just said what I thought and tried to explain but you twisted my words and fit them into your narratives and all ganged up on me. Lina, you’re a goddamn hypocrite. Aren’t you invalidating my beliefs too?”

He swung himself off the table and made to leave. Chan stared helplessly at him, unable to intervene.

“Your beliefs are discriminatory and hurtful to the majority of us,” said Lina sharply. “You’re not welcome in this society. Hear that, everyone? From here on, Jisung is banned from attending our meetings and any events.” The bedraggled looking boy with blue hair, the other leader, looked rather shocked at Lina’s words but he didn’t try to defend Jisung, even though he seemed reluctant to agree with her.

“That’s a bit harsh,” the blue-haired boy finally said, but he was drowned out by the ripple of assent that went through the crowd. Jisung could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes boring into him, but he was too incensed with rage for it to affect him.

“Good for you,” he said mockingly. “I’m glad I was able to leave such a lasting impact.”

Then he stormed out of the classroom and speed-walked angrily the entire way back to his dorm, not pausing until he opened the door to his own room and collapsed onto his bed and screamed into his pillow, hoping to God a mob wouldn’t be outside his dorm the next day, demanding his expulsion.

Luckily, Chan was a blessing that existed in the world and he’d miraculously gotten the society to just leave it at Jisung’s permanent ban.

Why was this relevant now? Because Jisung was hiding in the toilet in a café due to his run-in with the LGBTQ+ society.

He’d been tapping away on his laptop when he’d seen Lina, the president and the tired boy (no longer looking as tired, but the nickname stuck) stride in along with a whole bunch of people. Jisung had panicked, shoved everything into his bag haphazardly and dashed into the toilets, praying no one had caught sight of him – his seat was far back in the café, to avoid distractions.

Now he was continuing his work but using the toilet as an uncomfortable porcelain chair. However, the toilet was not an ideal place to work and Jisung had already sent an SOS to the group chat, trying to get someone to tell him when the event would be over.

He checked his phone when it buzzed.

_chanstopher: jisung it’s till 5:30pm_ _☹ (sent 3:25pm)_

“Oh fuck me,” grumbled Jisung, almost tossing his phone to the floor by impulse in frustration before remembering he was in a toilet stall. While it was a nice clean stall, Jisung wasn’t about to touch things unless necessary.

He opened a new word document and started outlining an escape plan.

_Leave toilet_

_Get someone to keep watch_

_Option 1: Leave via back exit when the coast is clear_

_Option 2: Leave through the front in some kind of disguise_

_Option 3: Climb out a window or something_

_Option 4: Just walk out and don’t engage at all, cool as a cucumber_

_Option 5: Have another fight with them_

_Option 6: FUCKING SPRINT FOR IT_

_Option 7: Beg for forgiveness then run_

Hm, nope there was no way he was doing option 7.

After some negotiation, the long-suffering Jeongin had been successfully coerced into heading over to help Jisung escape.

_babymusclebread: the coast is clear, they’re all just sitting there_

Jisung unlocked the toilet door, hood pulled low over his face and crept out the stall. There was no one at the sink, so he stepped silently to the door and checked his phone again.

_jisungbieber: is the coast clear, agent baby bread_

_babymusclebread: … … …_

_babymusclebread: yes, you overdramatic bitch_

_babymusclebread: …wait! a guy with blue hair just got up and is coming to the toilets….!!!! CODE RED!!_

Jisung bolted back into the toilet stall as the door creaked open. His phone vibrated again in his pocket. As soon as he heard the sound of another stall door shut and lock, he dashed out the toilets, only to come face to face with a blond man blinking innocently at him.

“Oh!” the guy said delightedly. “You’re the one who’s banned! Jihoon?”

“Jisung,” corrected Jisung then he froze. “Hang on a second! You’re Ten!”

Fuck. His phone vibrated several times, and his screen lit up; Jeongin had just sent dozens of exclamation marks.

“Oh, you remembered me?” Ten laughed liltingly. “Are you crashing the event? Continuing your agenda against labels?”

“No,” hissed Jisung vehemently, pulling Ten back into the toilets with him. “I’m trying to leave without being spotted, but I’ve already failed.”

“Don’t worry,” said Ten but there was a worrying amount of glee etched on his face. “I never gave a shit about your opinion in the first place so it didn’t affect me.”

“Nice to know,” said Jisung through gritted teeth.

“Also, you should call me Ten-hyung, I’m in my last year.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want if you help me get out of here!” The toilet flushed behind him and Jisung realised it must be the blue-haired guy.

“Now!” he mouthed at Ten, jabbing a frantic finger at the stall. Ten shook his head and shrugged, mouthing back, but Jisung couldn’t lipread at all so he settled for spinning around to face the wall, which was a terrible hiding spot.

“Ten, why did you follow me to the toilet?” said an irritated voice. “You little creep.” They added this as an afterthought.

“Haha Kunkun, never mind that, look who I found!” Ten dragged Jisung over to ‘Kunkun’, who looked extremely done for a moment until his face lit up in recognition.

Jisung finally realised who it was. It was the incredibly tired guy.

“Oh, him,” said ‘Kunkun’, in a manner that was just as exhausted as his expression. “Nice to see you again, Jisung.”

Jisung gaped. “Aren’t you all meant to hate me or something?”

‘Kunkun’ waved his hand dismissively and somehow slapped Ten in the face at the same time. “No, it’s just Lina and some others. I’m Kun, by the way. I was actually trying to get them to revoke your ban, but I got overruled.”

Ten rubbed his face ruefully, pink spreading across his forehead. “We can help him leave, right?”

In the end, by the result of some miracle, Kun talked the barista into letting Jisung leave through the staffroom’s back exit. 

“You owe us now!” called Ten after him as Jisung waved goodbye to the two.

“Um, OK!” called back Jisung uncertainly, heart sinking at owing a favour to someone as wily as Ten.

He began the walk back home. Technically Jisung could go to the library to keep working, but the little excursion today had thoroughly worn him out so he was going to chill.

*

Minho saw the elevator doors begin to close and rushed in, bags of shopping flapping riskily. The person who just got off stepped out of his way, wanting to avoid a collision.

After the high school reunion and the clusterfuck that followed, Minho had woken the following day with an imprint of the asphalt etched into his forehead and a terrible headache. For someone studying to be a doctor, it was pretty stupid.

Currently, Minho was pretending it never happened, a strategy he called ‘ignoring the problem till it goes away’. If this strategy failed, there was another strategy he used as well, known as ‘if the problem doesn’t go away, keep ignoring it till it blows up in your face and you have a mental breakdown’. In other words, there was no second strategy and Minho was unwilling to face his crisis.

As long as history didn’t repeat itself, things could carry on as normal. Normal didn’t necessarily equate to ‘good’ but Minho was fine with that.

At least until another person dashed into the elevator after him as the doors started closing and almost slammed against the wall in their hurry.

It was none other than Joshua.

It was a facepalm-worthy moment. An ‘oh shit’ moment.

Minho felt the plastic straps of his shopping slip downwards, his fingers currently coated in a sheen of sweat, and gripped more tightly at them and attempted to avoid eye contact.

“Hello Minho,” said Joshua softly, no trace of malice present. “We never talked since the party.”

Correction: Minho refused to talk to Joshua ever again since the party. He was glad Joshua had enough tact to not say this outright.

“What floor are you going to?” asked Minho, avoiding answering.

“The same one as you,” Joshua said amicably. Now seeing him up close while sober, Minho could see that Joshua was the epitome of a church boy, with soft features and well-tailored clothes.

“Oh.”

“Are you still interested, by any chance?” offered Joshua. “I wasn’t kidding about making it a regular thing.”

There was evidently more to the eye than the gentlemanly image Joshua projected.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Minho said coldly. “I’m not interested, sorry.”

The elevator shuddered to a halt and Minho overbalanced slightly, pitching forwards. Joshua steadied Minho by grasping his forearms, far too into Minho’s personal space for comfort.

“Do you really need me to spell it out?” whispered Joshua into Minho’s ear.

“We’re here,” said Minho tonelessly, ripping himself away from Joshua. He was already having a field day at the fact Joshua lived on the same floor as him.

Joshua continued following behind him in the corridor.

“Are you following me?” he demanded, stopping halfway en route to his home. “I’m not fucking interested.”

“Hey, I’m going to my apartment too,” said Joshua. “And to spell it out just in case you really didn’t get me, I find you physically and sexually attractive and was wondering if the feelings were mutual?”

“They’re not,” said Minho shortly. “I’m not into that. Into guys.”

Joshua made a disbelieving noise. “Are you sure, Minho?”

“I was drunk and messing around,” Minho shrugged nonchalantly. “It happens. You can have a bad hook-up sometimes.”

“Ouch. Can’t pretend that didn’t hurt.” Joshua didn’t seem that bothered though. “I won’t bother you anymore then.”

To Minho’s annoyance, Joshua was still following him. Minho was about to ask Joshua why he was still here if he wasn’t going to bother him anymore when he saw someone that made him clam up.

For some reason, Jisung was sitting outside, leaning against the door, and typing away on his laptop.

“Oh, I forgot my keys,” he said to Minho casually. “I figured you’d be back soon though so I decided to try working in a new location. Heard it’s great for your concentration.” Jisung raised his head and caught sight of Joshua too, who to Minho’s astonishment was fiddling at the door where Mark lived, with Jisoo.

He felt like someone had poured cold water on him. An unpleasant sensation tugged forcefully at the back of his neck.

“Hi Jisoo,” said Jisung as an afterthought, not looking up from his laptop. “Say hi to Mark for me.”

“Jisoo?” Minho said accusingly. The puzzle pieces were sitting there, just waiting to be put together.

“Jisoo’s my Korean name,” said Joshua apologetically. “I go by both.”

Then he unlocked his door and went inside, leaving Minho utterly gobsmacked.

“Oi, get up,” he snapped more acidly than intended at Jisung, who was still leaning on their door. There was dust on his trousers that Jisung failed to dust off himself. Minho smacked the white patches, watching the clouds of dust puff away.

“OK, don’t get your panties in a twist,” muttered Jisung and he got up slowly. Then he searched Minho’s face, leaving Minho feeling horribly exposed. “Are you OK?”

Minho couldn’t speak. In fact, he could barely breathe. His chest felt unbearably tight. He was almost sure that if Jisung looked him in the eyes closely, he would really know everything that happened, so he turned away from Jisung’s look of concern. It was so inviting, so tempting to spill everything and let Jisung carry his burdens with him.

But he wouldn’t do it.

He unlocked the door with shaking hands and dropped the bags to the floor, the harsh reality of the encounter only just hitting him. It became a lot harder to ignore the problem when the ‘problem’ only lived one door away from you.

It felt like the first time he’d realised what happened at the party all over, the same panic and restlessness.

“Minho, talk to me?” Jisung hovered around him, a hand reached tentatively towards him. Minho shook off the fingers that curled around his wrist.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, picking up the bags again to take them to the kitchen. Jisung continued to follow him to the fridge, still wearing that look of concern that was starting to bug the hell out of Minho.

He was hardly about to tell Jisung that he had drunkenly made out with their neighbour.

“You can tell me if something’s bothering you,” Jisung persisted, taking one of the bags of shopping and emptying its contents onto the counter. “I won’t judge.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” reiterated Minho, “And you’re putting the snacks in the wrong place.” He shut the fridge with more force than necessary.

“C’mon, don’t keep it in,” Jisung looked at him beseechingly and Minho felt his blood pressure rise.

“There’s nothing wrong, just…just stop asking, for god’s sake!” exploded Minho. “It’s none of your fucking business! Just leave me alone!”

Dead silence. Minho realised at once he’d gone too far.

“Jisung,” he started pleadingly. _Fearfully._

It was too late. Jisung looked like Minho had slapped him in the face. In fact, he would probably be in less pain if Minho slapped him. There was shock, then disappointment, then Jisung’s bottom lip wobbled tellingly before giving way to anger.

“I’m sorry for trying to check if you were OK,” said Jisung quietly, voice devoid of emotion. “I’ll give you some space for you to sort things out.”

He brushed past Minho and shut the door to his room.

Minho sank to the floor, cross-legged, and felt his eyes stinging.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He was so afraid. He desperately wanted to tell Jisung. But he couldn’t. Because it was disgusting. And now he’d probably gone and driven Jisung away for good.

A damp patch formed on his jeans, where his head was bent over and the tears were pouring. Minho forced himself upwards and sluggishly dragged his feet to his room, slamming the door and falling straight into bed.

He knew he shouldn’t have clammed up like that. But what else could he do?

He spent the night, back ramrod straight in bed, spine stiffened, staring at nothing in particular in the darkness. Occasionally his shoulders shook silently, as tears soundlessly travelled across the dips and valleys of his face, pooling in his ears.

It was scary.

*

Things did not become alright in the morning, which meant life at home, the one safe haven for Minho became unbearably shit.

Luckily, he left the apartment before Jisung was even awake. He wasn’t in a good state. The chatter of everyone in vicinity made him irritable and the last thing Minho felt like was talking to patients and pretending he gave a shit about anything in the world.

A great attitude to have towards patients, indeed.

Even the dry faded leaves of autumn hues drifting to the ground pissed him off. They looked too picturesque. Minho felt ugly and disgusting and he wanted the rest of the world to burn with him.

Sleep had completely elapsed him, or maybe not, Minho couldn’t tell. He had no clue if he’d snored through the night or lay there with his eyes shut the whole time. He just felt like shit.

He injected a false brightness into his tone as he greeted the professor, then blearily mumbled greetings to his classmates.

“Uh yeah, I just pulled an all-nighter,” Minho told Jun, as they split off into groups to take patient histories.

“I can tell,” replied Jun simply, waving a hand carelessly at Minho’s hair, which was sticking straight up at the back. “You really should tidy yourself up, the prof gave you the stink eye earlier. Didn’t you notice? We’re meant to be presentable in hospital, y’know. Professionalism and all that.”

Minho shrugged in response and tried to flatten down his hair with some spit and his hand. His eyes felt so swollen he could barely see. The bright hospital lights weren’t helping at all.

Slogging through the day was intense, intense effort. When they practiced taking blood, something he’d tried before and was confident in, his hands shook and he had to try several times to find the vein.

“I’ve been told my veins are hard to find,” offered his partner in reassurance, but Minho knew he was doing a crappy job of it.

He didn’t have the energy to find lunch and spent his break sagged onto a rigid plastic chair, praying the day would end faster.

A few friends glanced over him, perturbed but no one dared to approach him. His eyes were barely open, slits from his lack of sleep. It probably looked like he was glaring at them all. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

_I like being with Jisung most, anyway._

But now he didn’t even have that.

A restless debate thrummed through him throughout. It was a mess. Minho was a mess.

Even on the walk home, he tried to tell himself it wasn’t a big fight. He’d just apologise to Jisung and say he wasn’t ready to talk about it. Then done! Things could snap back into place. Home could feel like home again.

The other part was convinced it was over. Jisung was going to move out because he hated Minho and Minho would go back to his lonely friendless ways. He wasn’t sure if he could live like that anymore.

“Yeah, I’ve actually done the assignment for once?” Minho heard Jisung squawking incredulously as he went inside.

But as soon as the scraping of the door became audible, silence fell.

Jisung stared at Minho, from his own spot on the sofa, his expression unfathomable.

“Hey, Jisung,” Minho whispered, barely more than a breath. He tried to repeat himself. “Hello, Jisung.”

Maybe Jisung didn’t see the barest movement of Minho’s lips or he simply pretended not to notice but he gave a short nod of acknowledgment then got up and brushed past Minho. He proceeded to walk straight out of the apartment, trainers not even properly on. Jisung had just slipped his feet into them and trod out.

As Jisung’s shoulder nudged his, Minho was utterly still, not even inhaling and when he heard Jisung’s steps echo off the shiny blue floor, resuming his conversation on the phone again, his heart turned to ice.

He took one great shuddering breath and shut the door softly behind him, moving like a robot to his room.

It was all his fault.

Jisung was still mad at him.

It hurt like something awful.

It was up to Minho to fix things, but now he was scared. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, let alone go apologise.

He threw himself into his work, blocking out the voices with extreme effort.

Minho became so transfixed into his work that by the time he finally slammed the lid of his laptop shut at midnight, he nearly screamed when he straightened up as his back protested nosily. The muscles on his neck and shoulders were all bunched up and he spent the next few minutes wincing as he dug his hands into them, trying to smooth out the knots.

That was when he heard noises coming from outside his room. It was muffled, but it seemed like shouting or yelling. Whatever it was, he could hear raised voices.

The walls were decently soundproof in this accommodation so Minho never heard Jisung talking normally, but occasionally Jisung would yell or scream in moments of frustration – if he lost a game, didn’t have inspiration or vice versa, when he was happy.

There was also thumping now. It sounded like Jisung was fighting someone inside his room, roughing each other up.

What the fuck was going on?

He must not have heard Jisung come home or that he’d brought people over.

Despite the cold war between them, stabbing anxiety forced Minho to open his door with as little noise as possible.

He crept closer down the hallway when a brand-new noise stopped him dead in his tracks.

Heat flooded Minho’s neck and he immediately retreated back into his room, his socks sliding on the wooden floor in his haste and put his earphones in, loud music on.

It wasn’t an argument, Jisung was _moaning_. Panting and moaning was coming from his room. Both the voices were low, and definitely male.

Jisung was _gay._

Minho didn’t know how to feel about that or how he was meant to feel. How he was _supposed_ to feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, sorry this is a day late, I was felt really ill yesterday and completely forgot, but I'm fine now. 
> 
> This was an interesting chapter to write...I hope it doesn't come off as invalidating or discriminatory, that wasn't my intention at all. Rather it was an attempt at exploring another way of viewing sexuality. Apologies if it seems like a random scene to add but it is relevant later, I guess.  
> I'll admit Jisung's opinions reflects my own slightly and I do believe sexuality can be fluid while also appreciating and finding other people's labels completely valid too. 
> 
> The plot thickens...and some KunTen because I find them so funny together. Joshua-Jisoo and Mark-Minhyung worked out so conveniently as well hehe. 
> 
> Minho's having a hard time as usual...well...sorry


	10. So I'm Wandering in This World

Minho’s brain exploded that night. The following morning, he was still reeling from the explosion and clambering out of the rubble and destruction around him. Hyunjin turned out to be gay too. Was Minho fated for all his close friends to be gay? He badly wanted to talk to someone about it but didn’t know who to go to. He couldn’t even ask Jisung about it because they weren’t on speaking terms (and Minho was a huge coward).

A small banner waved through his mind all morning, disturbing him every time his mind drifted off from his studying for Christmas exams. It flashed with lots of fizz and sparkle, emblazoned with ‘Jisung is gay’ in bold, bright capital letters. It was like one of the LED announcements that ran continuously across a board in train stations, leaving Minho unable to remember anything they’d been taught this term. He’d had enough mental breakdowns at this point that this revelation wasn’t even the cherry on top.

The silence continued between them for a solid week, with Minho finding himself unable to reach out and apologise. He just couldn’t bring himself to. He would stand outside Jisung’s door but never knock. Just like how Minho always passed Hyunjin in the corridor but never dared to speak to him.

Meanwhile, troublesome thoughts plagued him relentlessly.

He sat late at night by the desk, blurred text flickering before his eyes. The harsh glow of his lamp was beginning to sting his eyes. Minho was about to contemplate calling it a day when his door opened with a bang.

Jisung rushed in, gaze burning with an intensity Minho had never seen.

“Jisung?” Minho stammered slightly, taken aback.

Minho’s notes flew across the room, some fluttering to the floor, others crushed beneath Minho’s back as Jisung pushed him against the desk.

Minho’s heart started going a million miles per hour but he made no effort to extricate himself and allowed Jisung to trap him on the desk.

“What are you doing?” he managed to force out breathlessly, from their proximity and the warmth of Jisung’s hands against his shoulders.

Jisung said nothing but pressed his forehead to Minho’s, till the tips of their noses bumped and their lips millimetres apart.

“You heard me the other day, didn’t you?” Colour flooded Minho’s face when he caught on. The metal accessories on Jisung’s jeans pressed uncomfortably into his thigh, cool and hard.

“Were you jealous?”

“No!” gasped Minho, but the memory itself made his body react eagerly. What the hell was happening? Why was Jisung acting so out-of-character? Weren’t they not talking-?

That was when Jisung roughly pulled Minho up by the front of his t-shirt into a bruising kiss.

And then Minho juddered into consciousness as if waking up from a scary dream, sweaty and out of breath.

“Just a dream,” he muttered to himself, “Didn’t mean anything.” It happened to everybody. Sometimes you’d dream about unfortunate sexual encounters with people you’d never touch in real life, like your family. Gross, but it couldn’t be helped.

His pen had left a red indent on his forehead and there was a small, damp circle of drool on a page of his notes.

Even in his dreams he wasn’t safe. Minho couldn’t run away from himself.

Finding out Jisung was gay was influencing his subconscious way too much. Now his subconscious was actively fucking with him. Minho knew from personal experience it wasn’t abnormal to have sex dreams of your friends – it was part of growing up, sexual maturation. Puberty. Minho wasn’t sure if being twenty still counted as being in puberty.

Either way, that didn’t make him feel any better about it. It felt like he’d violated Jisung unknowingly, shoved his friend into a new light without his permission, objectifying him. Watching Jisung do weird stuff without his consent, even if only Minho could see it happening.

_But Jisung does this stuff with other guys._

It was time to sleep now, Minho told himself firmly. His headphones, drowned out his thoughts each night with tranquil piano music, protecting Minho from what Chan called TMT – too many thoughts.

*

It wasn’t a legitimate silence, more of a cold war – between them they’d progressed to giving stiff nods and polite greetings like ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’.

Dreaming about Jisung had become a fear for him and each night Minho pulled the duvet up to his chin, hoping the dream fairy would bless him for once. Some nights there was bliss but on others, Minho would wake up, his traitorous body reacting to the stimuli of his dreams, leaving him intensely uncomfortable. 

Minho almost feared this would become the new norm, and that demons would live inside him forever, until a few days later, Jisung cornered him, throwing open the door of Minho’s room with no warning whatsoever.

“Minho!” bellowed Jisung. “We need to talk!”

Luckily, Minho hadn’t been doing out of the ordinary at the time, but his head got stuck inside the sweater he was in the middle of wrenching off. In shock, he ripped it off at lightning speed. His top was shed along with his sweater.

He stood shirtless, blinking at Jisung, looking foolish and terrified.

“Um, I’ll just-,” Minho gestured at his shirt and hastily yanked it back on, without looking to see Jisung’s reaction. He felt his ears burning.

“Sorry for bursting in like that,” said Jisung, now red-faced too. “I should have knocked.”

“You never knock anyway.”

Minho tried to lean against his bed casually, but his pose radiated nervousness. Jisung didn’t fail to pick up on this.

“Iwajusgonsaysorry,” blurted Jisung.

“You what?”

Jisung swallowed hard and spent a few seconds exhaling a very deep breath. He took one deep breath in, then closed his eyes and exhaled very slowly as if to compose himself.

“I’ve been thinking about how to say it for the past few days. I’m sorry for being so pushy with you. I didn’t respect your privacy and then I had the audacity to get angry at you when I was the one who was making you uncomfortable. I wanted to give you some space and sort myself out too.”

A boulder rolling towards Minho would have made him less speechless than the apology Jisung offered. That was what Jisung made of the situation?

This was why he didn’t deserve Jisung as a friend. Or anyone really when Minho was such a fucking arsehole.

Looking back over the past week, Minho couldn’t help but sneer at his own struggles - some unwanted dreams and cowardice around making up with Jisung. While he tussled with his own petty problems, Jisung had gone and taken the blame himself _and_ worked up the nerve to come to Minho and apologise for doing nothing wrong.

What had _he_ been doing in the meantime? Undoubtedly, Minho had just hit a new all-time low.

“I’m sorry too.” Minho fumbled for words; an explanation that sounded as thought-out and mature as Jisung’s. “I didn’t need to get snappy with you over…”

He felt like he owed Jisung an explanation at the very least. As an equivalent exchange. He’d intruded on Jisung’s private affairs so there was a need to offer up one of his own secrets in return. But Minho wasn’t sure how to say it, especially when he’d been avoiding the topic too.

“Hey,” said Jisung sternly. “The whole point is you don’t need to tell me things you don’t want to.” Jisung sat down on Minho’s bed and the springs let out a squeak.

“Can we just get back to being friends now? I missed you, bro.”

The first genuine smile for days slipped out from Minho and he let himself relax beside Jisung onto the bed. This time the entire bedframe groaned.

“I missed you too.”

He could do this. Minho didn’t care if Jisung liked guys, he had progressed past that. Society had progressed past the need for High School Minho and his asshole ways.

It was blindingly obvious now above all things, sexuality aside, that Jisung was Minho’s friend. First and foremost came Jisung the Person, and anything else bowed before that. Minho’s internal battles could tear him apart from the inside but they wouldn’t change how he treated Jisung. His mind could create as many fantasies of him and Jisung as it wanted, but Minho wouldn’t let them win. His mistake with Hyunjin, Jeongin would never happen again. It could not happen again.

Minho wasn’t gay, even if his accidental discovery of Jisung was projecting onto him. That was fine. If Jisung was gay, that was fine too.

If Minho reacted more to Jisung’s friendly touches than usual, Jisung didn’t pick up on it. Though they were fleeting, they lingered far longer for Minho, replaying their ghostly impressions into the night. A new self-consciousness settled in Minho, exclusively towards Jisung.

The space between them was always warm, whether they were pressed flush together on Jisung’s bed, watching stuff on the laptop or cross-legged, nudging each other’s knees, simply talking. Minho often imagined scenarios where there was more than platonic affection beneath these touches, and they piled up like rubbish in a landfill, forming great mounds. At the table, they’d study together and Jisung’s playlist, full of slow piano ballads and soft acoustic rap would mute the outside world and paint a fairytale, as if they were living a movie together.

Minho watched his intrusive thoughts and fantasies cartwheel across his vision. It happened so often that many were dismissed instantly, although some returned to weigh down on him later. It was as if he was on a boat being loaded with rocks, Minho could throw the lighter ones into the water with a splash and watch them sink below the muddy surface but in the end, the weight of rocks would overpower him and Minho would sink down and watch the sunlight being blocked out above him.

*

Meat sizzled enticingly on the grill of the barbeque restaurant. Saliva gathered in Minho’s mouth and he swallowed it down before he drooled onto the table.

The barbeque restaurant trip that had been mentioned in the last gathering was actually happening. All eight of them were crowded around two tables, ready to blow holes in their stomachs and their wallets.

To Minho’s dismay, he hadn’t been able to grab a seat next to Jisung. Currently, he was sandwiched between Jeongin and Changbin who appeared to have nothing in common but were actually a lot closer than Minho assumed.

“What drinks are we getting?” said Changbin, looking around the tables at everyone.

“Depends if we’re making this a drinking night or not,” replied Seungmin. “What does everyone think?”

“Oh, we’ve got to have alcohol with barbeque,” said Jisung. “We’re Korean!”

Chan frowned like he didn’t think this was a very good reason but didn’t question it. Everyone got a bottle of soju as the smell of beef and garlic filled the air. Minho didn’t mind, he was actually grateful. It would make the socialising easier for everyone.

Minho decided to place himself in charge of the grilling of meat. It meant he didn’t have to talk as much and could just listen to the conversation, nod and go ‘yeah’ every now and then.

Changbin and Jeongin were speaking in hushed tones together.

“So when are you going to tell Felix you’re actually interested?” whispered Jeongin. “You basically admitted you wanted to date him when we played truth or dare last time.”

“We were all drunk,” said Changbin shortly and he sounded irritated as well. “And just because I like Felix doesn’t mean I can-”

He cut himself off and let out a deep sigh.

“Why not?” Minho found himself asking, even though his brain was screaming at him to shut up. “Sorry, it might be none of my business.” He flipped the meat and was glad that the redness of his face could be passed off as heat from the grill.

“Because Changbin’s an idiot,” Jeongin said matter-of-factly. “He’s had a thing for Felix ever since he transferred to our year in high school.”

Felix had joined their high school in their last year. Minho did a quick calculation. Over two years had passed since then.

“You never acted on it?” He asked Changbin curiously. Even to Minho, who didn’t like thinking about this kind of stuff, it was pretty obvious Felix had a huge thing for Changbin. He lit up differently. “I’m a newcomer but I thought it was really obvious he liked you.”

It was getting easier to talk about other people being…not being straight. Minho counted it as progress. Changbin took a deep swig of his soju and Minho finally sat back in his seat, all the meat was cooked now. Then he stood up again to cut it into bite-size pieces with scissors.

“I know he likes me,” Changbin shrugged. “But my parents…” Before Jeongin could retort, Changbin turned to him.

“You don’t get to talk, you pined after Hyunjin for even longer.”

“Yeah well, Hyunjin didn’t even know who I was for the first two years!”

“Look,” Changbin’s voice was sharp and closed off. He looked scary like that, eyes hard and narrowed. “Just drop it. Let me handle it myself.”

Minho hastily switched the conversation to something safer, like how they were getting on with the workload, mind swimming.

He’d never knew Jeongin liked Hyunjin for that long. But that meant his feelings for Hyunjin must be genuine if they could last for that long

*

After everyone was slumped in their chair, stomachs bulging, Chan got up to pay. He wasn’t completely stable as he stood up and was off-kilter from being egged on too many times to keep drinking.

“I’ll get the bill,” said Chan firmly and waved to the waitress who nodded. “It’s my treat.”

A chair screeched as Hyunjin stood up as well. “Sit your ass down, I’m paying.”

“I’m paying!” insisted Chan, squaring up at him.

“Don’t make me fight you!”

Minho stood up too.

“Stop arguing. I’m paying,” he said. It wouldn’t hurt his wallet. Or his parent’s wallet. Perhaps he still felt a bit guilty too about the whole high school thing.

“Sit down!” Hyunjin and Chan both barked at him. By now the waitress was holding the bill and standing by their table but she didn’t know who to hand it to. By her soulless expression, it was a common occurrence, watching people fight over the bill.

Minho ignored them both and strode over to the waitress himself with his card, feeling self-satisfied.

“Don’t you dare-!” called Hyunjin and Minho smiled sweetly at him, about to give his card over when an iron grip clamped down on him.

“All three of you sit your asses down,” Changbin handed his card to the waitress with a pleasant smile then turned around with that same terrifying grin. “Don’t make me say it twice.”

Meekly, all three of them sat back down.

The party continued, this time in Minho and Jisung’s own flat. They’d both rushed in first and hurriedly cleared the space, shoving last night’s empty takeout containers into the trash. It was considerably more cramped so everyone was squeezed knee-to-knee when sitting in a circle with hardly any space between them. Plastic bags of various alcoholic beverages were on the table again, freshly purchased from the off-licence and paid for again by Changbin. Changbin must be really rich, much richer than Minho thought because he paid for everything without breaking a sweat and refused to let anyone protest about it.

“We’re playing strip poker!” announced Seungmin right away, pulling out a pack of cards. No one seemed against the idea, so Minho kept silent. “It doesn’t have to be poker but a game where whoever loses the round has to take something off.”

“Why don’t we play Cheat?” Felix suggested. “We haven’t played that for ages. Every time someone gets caught cheating, they have to take something off.

Jisung had found Minho again on the walk back to their apartment and Minho shuffled close to him, glad to talk to him. Changbin and Jeongin were fun, but they weren’t Jisung. The eight of them huddled tightly, unused to the chill after the heat of the restaurant.

“Seungmin’s only suggesting it because he’s confident he won’t have to take anything off,” he whispered into Minho’s ear. His hot breath warmed Minho’s ears, which were red from the cold “He’s probably rigged the cards.”

“How far are we going with this?” complained Jeongin. “It’s cold tonight.”

“I’ll make sure to turn the thermostat up then,” joked Minho but he actually did turn it up a few degrees in case anyone actually froze. 

They added a new rule which was if you didn’t want to take any more clothes off, you had to take a shot of straight cognac. The bottle got passed around and the smell was vile.

It was casual enough at the start, with most people taking off socks and jackets for the first few rounds. As usual, Chan lost the most rounds. Minho was starting to think the man was actually cursed when it came to luck with these things. He was also terrible at lying and there was a noticeable waver in his voice whenever Chan lied about his cards.

Chan looked embarrassed at being the first one to take his shirt off but he shrugged it off easily enough.

“You guys are next,” he said and then downed his beer in one gulp. Minho looked down at himself. He was one of the few who’d lost his jacket and socks. Next would either be his shirt or trousers. Jisung on the other hand was still fully clothed. He hadn’t lost a single time yet.

The next round, Felix took his shirt off too and blushed madly whenever he made eye contact with Changbin who pointedly stopped looking in his direction. His ears were red though.

Impossibly, Seungmin and Jisung still hadn’t lost. With Seungmin it was unsurprising but Jisung wasn’t a great liar either. His tell was that smile that sneaked onto his face. It was really cute. 

“Your luck is insane,” Hyunjin grumbled as he pulled his own shirt over his head. There were purple marks around his collarbones. The marks didn’t stop there but also went all the way down his torso.

Minho wolf-whistled and the circle burst into laughter.

“Holy shit, I did not need to see that,” Seungmin said. Minho laughed heartily along with everyone else. He felt happy and a bit fuzzy off alcohol, but very much like he belonged here. The other reason he was happy was that he wasn’t bothered by the shirtless people around him. It meant he _wasn’t_ gay. Which could only be good news.

He laughed too early and lost the next time. His two ‘fours’ were called out by Felix who was losing badly and had nearly the whole deck. B

“What to go,” he muttered. People kept taking their shirts off, so he decided it would be fun to change it up a little. He was wearing boxers anyway so it’d be fine. Yes, Minho got up and undid the fly of jeans before shimmying them down his ankles and kicking them across the room. One of the trouser legs hit Seungmin across the face. He looked kind of pissed but Minho was drunk enough not to care.

Seungmin had already put all his cards into the pile and won, so he was exempt from stripping.

Minho looked at Jisung, smirking at how annoyed Seungmin was but then froze when he saw the way Jisung was looking at him, or rather avoiding his eyes. Was Minho acting weird? He’d stop then. He didn’t want to make Jisung uncomfortable.

“Wow, your thighs are still rock hard,” commented Hyunjin, staring without the slightest trace of embarrassment.

“We weren’t in dance club for nothing,” replied Minho and sat back down in the circle. The air in the apartment was warm so luckily he wasn’t cold. Then a warm hand landed on his upper thigh and squeezed.

Minho stiffened and glanced to his right.

“Pretty solid, eh?” said Jisung with a wink.

“That’s right,” replied Minho with forced laughter.

Changbin had also been caught cheating several times but had refused to remove clothing from himself and taken a shot every single time. At last, he conceded and removed his socks, with pretty bad coordination. He also got pretty ballsy.

When the game of Cheat was over, everyone insisted on starting a new game, mainly to get back at Seungmin.

“I’ll shuffle the cards this time,” Then Changbin snatched the deck from Seungmin, who looked highly affronted but let him. He couldn’t have overpowered Changbin anyway. It did considerably even the playing field though and Seungmin began to lose.

When they reached the point where the next step for several people would be getting fully naked, Minho included, a natural end to things was reached. There’d been a lot of laughs and delay between games where embarrassing stories had been exchanged. All in all, a great night.

Minho and Jisung waved at everyone after they redressed and began shuffling out the door. Minho’s legs were trembling from the cold air that had hit him when he opened the door to let everyone out. He’d been surprisingly warm in his underwear, from the radiator, the flush of alcohol, and just from laughing over and over again.

“Finally,” groaned Jisung when Minho slammed the door shut.

“Aren’t you happy to hang out with everyone?”

“I am,” yawned Jisung. “But I’m absolutely zonked out now.” They sprawled across the sofa together, Minho resting his bare feet in Jisung’s lap. The clock on the wall read three in the morning.

“You didn’t your shirt off,” Minho said drowsily. Jisung’s body heat was making him sleepy. “You drank instead.”

“Well…” Jisung pushed Minho’s feet off him and his head drooped onto Minho’s shoulder. His hair tickled Minho’s skin. Was this weird? Minho tried to put it in context. Him and Hyunjin showered together in school. This wasn’t even close. Stamp of approval.

“I’m not really comfortable with showing my body,” muttered Jisung very faintly. Minho hardly managed to catch it. “Because everyone else is so athletic and buff and I’m just very skinny.”

“Like me?”

“Like you.”

“Your arms are buff though,” pondered Minho out loud. “I don’t think Seungmin works out that much either.”

“He was rigging the game though. And I don’t think his self-esteem is as shit as mine.” Minho’s heart burst.

“Bro...” He wrapped an arm around Jisung. “You’re not ugly. Not even close. And trust me, none of us care if you’re not packing a six-pack or don’t have defined muscles. I don’t, anyway.”

“Thanks dude,” mumbled Jisung. He got up from the sofa. “We should go to bed.”

“I don’t want to move though,” whined Minho.” Why did you get up? I was cosy like this.”

Jisung watched him with a conflicted expression. “You can stay out here and freeze then. I’m going to sleep in my soft warm bed.”

Feeling somehow deflated, Minho picked himself off the sofa too and trailed to his room.

“Good night!” he called to Jisung who flipped him off.

*

A bunch of teenage girls glided past Jisung, catching off-guard and he stumbled. Jisung’s legs wobbled then slid so far apart Minho thought he was going to drop into the splits. Minho watched with barely concealed laughter as Jisung flailed around.

“Help!” croaked Jisung before he managed to grab onto the barrier at the side and regain his balance. Minho skidded easily over to him on the ice.

“You don’t need help, you’re doing fine.” Jisung glared furiously at him. 

“I was about to _die_ ,” he hissed and as if to prove a point, lifted his hands from the barrier and immediately pitched forwards.

Minho seized the back of his collar before his face slammed to the floor. A temporary ice rink had opened for December so here they were, enjoying the festive season. Or at least Minho was, having done figure skating for a few years. Jisung on the other hand was a total beginner. The rink was totally packed with people – families with their children, groups of friends, couples on dates.

“You would have just fallen over, it’s not that bad,” said Minho. “My coach told me to fall a few times. You’re less scared once you know how it feels. And I can teach you how to fall.”

“What do you mean teach me how to fall?” scoffed Jisung but he grabbed onto Minho and leant his weight heavily on him. “Just stop skating around and showing off and _help me_.”

Minho held back a huff. It wasn’t even easy to show off in the plastic shoddy rental skates that had blunt blades. He could barely spin in them, let alone do some jumps and show all those years of training.

With a sigh, Minho grabbed onto Jisung’s sweaty palms and started skating backward, guiding Jisung around the rink. That was the trouble with knowing how to skate. You just ended up being stuck teaching your useless friends. Not that Jisung was terrible, he was just really, really scared of falling over.

Every now and then, Jisung would slip forwards and lean in towards Minho, struggling to find his balance. He would come nose to nose with Minho and each time, Minho’s chest tightened at the proximity. But he was doing good. He was getting the hang of it. Minho wasn’t sure if he meant himself or Jisung.

“See, it’s not so hard now is it?” Minho was only holding onto one of Jisung’s hands now and they were going at a much faster pace than before. “You want to try by yourself? I’ll keep an eye out if you slip.”

“OK, fine!” huffed Jisung, pink in the face with the effort of keeping up. He was wearing tight black jeans, which was definitely the contributing factor to Jisung’s struggle. Minho had told him to change but Jisung had insisted it was essential to his outfit and ‘aesthetic’. He managed to make it from one end of the rink to the other when he started running on the spot on the ice, going faster and faster until he collapsed in a heap with a little crash.

Minho knew he shouldn’t have found it so funny but he snorted. Jisung’s face would have made a statue laugh.

“Aren’t you meant to catch me?” screeched Jisung as Minho glided over to him with ease.

“I wanted you to try falling over once though,” returned Minho. “Now you’re not so scared of falling, are you?”

“Whatever,” muttered Jisung and he stretched out a hand. “Help me up, bitch.”

Minho slapped Jisung’s hand away.

“Hey, you’re asking me for help here,” said Minho with a smirk, “You think insulting me will help-” A kid whizzed dangerously close to them and they both yelped, Jisung scrabbling on the ice.

“Watch where you’re going!” shouted Jisung angrily. The kid stuck their tongue out at them.

“Maybe you watch where you fall!” the kid shouted back, high-pitched and whiny.

Minho shook his head in disbelief.

“Kids these days…” He had never been that much of a brat at that age.

While Minho was watching the kid skate away, Jisung attempted to grab Minho’s trousers and use them as leverage to pull himself off the ground. It was a bad decision. Minho lost his balance and they both collapsed again on the ice, in a pile of limbs.

If it sounded like something out of a drama, it really wasn’t. The fall was genuinely dangerous. Minho at least had the presence of mind to fall ‘properly’ as his coach had taught him, hands hitting the ice first to absorb the bulk of the shock and purposely extending his feet away from Jisung, scared he would cut him with the blades. This at least prevented him from dropping his weight onto Jisung.

Pain shot through Minho’s knees as his body followed them to the ground. He swore under his breath and tried to clamber off Jisung who had a hand pressed to his forehead.

“Fucking idiot!” said Minho under his breath. He got back up and dusted the ice off himself. There might be a bruise or two but otherwise he was peachy. Jisung however looked disorientated.

“Oh shit, you didn’t bang your head, did you?” exclaimed Minho, worry catching onto him.

“I don’t know…”

“Oh my fucking god,” Jisung lay on the ice for a while, looking dazed. God, Minho only knew basic life support and patient assessment, he had just started second year. He wasn’t a doctor yet and had no more clue about head injuries than your general first-aider. That would have to do, he supposed.

“Jisung, can you get up easily?” he asked and Jisung blinked at him, but nodded and slowly got to his knees.

“Your neck doesn’t hurt? Or your back?” Minho wasn’t really sure what he was checking for but he was pretty sure people with neck and back injuries shouldn’t be moved. Jisung didn’t look like he was having any difficulty moving, so Minho ruled that one out.

Minho snaked an arm around Jisung and hauled him off the ice. It was no good, Jisung’s balance had gone completely out the window. Minho knew it looked extremely stupid but he began dragging Jisung off the ice rink. Jisung’s feet trailed on the ice as Minho hooked his arms under Jisung’s armpits and skated backwards off the rink.

Just as he stepped off, to his left there were a group of people putting ice skates on as well. He sat Jisung down and he seemed mostly fine now – he was sitting upright without a problem. Still worried about the force of impact, Minho ran a hand through Jisung’s hair, gently along his scalp and then he felt it. A solid lump on the back of Jisung’s head.

“Aw, it’s you again!” said a thin drawling voice. The familiarity of it made the back of Minho’s neck feel very hot, then very cold. He immediately ripped his hand from Jisung’s hair. It was a voice Minho would recognise in his sleep.

Ten bounced over to the two of them.

“Hi Jooheon, we meet again!” The last time Minho saw Ten, he’d had black hair, sleeked back with gel and thick eyeliner. Now his hair was long and blond and he looked remarkably smaller than Minho remembered. Much less intimidating. Nevertheless, panic started to eat its way through Minho’s insides.

His physiological stress response activated. They’d just studied it last week.

Jisung looked up from the floor, irritation written all over him.

“My name is _Jisung_!”

Ten shrugged, looking unbothered. “Whatever. I meet a lot of people, I can’t remember them all.” Then he turned to Minho and recognition dawned. Dread crawled up Minho’s spine. Fear lodged in his throat but he still met Ten’s eyes, pleading him not to say anything.

“Are you his boyfriend or what?” 

“W-what?” spluttered Jisung, face colouring and Minho choked on his spit and cleared his throat noisily. “No! We’re friends.”

“Just asking,” Ten replied, saccharine sweet. “I thought you were on a date. You were stroking his hair.”

“Actually,” Minho spoke up, voice thankfully not as shaky as he felt. “He hit his head on the ice. I was checking for a bump.”

“Well, you should’ve said that earlier!” Ten looked back at his group of friends who were making quite the racket. “Taeyongie!”

He turned back to the two of them. The man coming over to them looked rather familiar, but Minho definitely didn’t remember meeting him.

“You know Taeyong, right?” said Ten, when he finally caught up with them. “He’s a figure skater. Top five in Korea.” Minho realised he’d probably seen him on a billboard or in an advert. Taeyong was so unfairly good-looking that Minho was mildly annoyed he could be talented in another area.

Normally, he would have been awed from meeting such a high-ranking sports star, but he was jumpy with nerves at the sight of Ten standing there, relaxed.

_How_ , Minho wanted to scream at him.

Taeyong swatted Ten lightly. “Be quiet, you pest. Why are you bothering these people?”

“I’m not bothering them,” protested Ten, “I’m helping! Look, Jisung hit his head while skating earlier. I thought you might be able to help them.”

“So you do know my name!”

Ten whistled, looking away at the ice rink.

While Taeyong busied himself with checking Jisung and asking a few questions, Minho was left to fend for himself alone with Ten.

A strange sense of calm enveloped him and it was strange, but Minho was thankful he wasn’t going to start freaking out.

“How have you been?” asked Ten. “I do remember you, you’re Minho.”

“That’s me,” said Minho shortly. Even if he felt okay, he wasn’t thrilled to be meeting Ten again.

“Still with your girlfriend then?”

“We broke up last year.”

“Out the closet yet?”

“I’m not gay.”

When Minho gave Ten an ice-cold glare, Ten at least had the decency to look sorry. He threw an arm around Minho and whispered conspiratorially into his ear, leaning close in. Ten’s skinny form pressing against him only invoked memories of the night and Minho shuddered.

“Don’t worry, your little secret’s safe with me.”

“Thanks,” deadpanned Minho and he shrugged Ten’s arm off his shoulder. Then someone else joined them.

“Why are you off bothering people again?” This person looked extremely tired and even more done with Ten than Minho.

Ten pouted. “Why does everyone ask me that?”

“Hi, I’m Kun,” said the man and Ten leaned in closer to him, resting a head on his shoulder. Kun wrinkled his nose but still let Ten lean into his touch. “I see you know Ten?”

“We met at a party,” said Ten in a much softer voice. “I recognised him so I just said hi.”

“How do you know Jisung?” Minho couldn’t help asking. Ten didn’t seem like someone Jisung would have in his social circle. Then again, Ten hadn’t even remembered Jisung’s name so they probably weren’t close.

“Just from here and there,” said Ten vaguely. “Oh look, he’s coming over.”

Jisung was stomping clunkily towards them in unlaced ice skates, scowling. The long laces of his skates fluttered behind him and his ankles were unsupported by the boot, rocking side to side. Minho immediately rushed over and steadied him.

“You’re going to sprain an ankle if you try and walk like that, you idiot,” hissed Minho. Jisung ignored him and his eyes darted around at Ten and Kun then back at Minho in suspicion. Minho’s heart dropped. There was no way Jisung could be _that_ perceptive, right?

Luckily Jisung didn’t ask. He just slung an arm around Minho’s waist and leaned his own head on Minho’s shoulder, so they were mirroring Ten and Kun. Ten smirked knowingly at Jisung then kissed Kun right on the lips. Kun broke out into a coughing fit, looking absolutely mortified.

Ten quirked an eyebrow at Jisung, as if silently challenging him to follow. Jisung sent a withering glare back at him. Minho should have picked up on this but he’d been refusing to look in Ten’s direction and kept his focus on Kun, who let out a huge sigh.

“Why are you acting so weird?” said Kun and Ten shrugged. The two of them started bickering.

“You and Ten seem really familiar with each other,” said Jisung, something unusual in his tone. It wasn’t something Minho had ever heard before.

“We met at a few parties before last year,” lied Minho, going along with Ten’s story. “How do you know them?”

“Um, I-” stammered Jisung and now it was Minho’s turn to be suspicious. Ten re-joined them.

“We met Jaehyo in the toilet of a café,” explained Ten. “The LGBTQ+ society was meeting there and by coincidence, so was Jimin. Also, that’s two favours to me now.”

That seemed to be directed at Jisung, who scowled at Ten blatantly calling him the wrong names again.

“LGBTQ+ society?” said Minho curiously.

“I’m one of the leaders,” said Kun. “Got a problem with that?” His tone was light, but Minho could hear the threat beneath it.

“No, not at all,” replied Minho quickly. “I just hadn’t heard about it before.”

“Oi!” shouted a deep husky voice. “Let’s get on the ice!”

Kun grinned apologetically at them. “Give us a second, Xuxi! We’re going to go skate now. It was nice meeting you two though.”

“You too,” said Minho genuinely, although more to Kun than Ten. Kun’s aura was far more comforting.

As they left, Jisung hugged Minho tightly, pressing his face into Minho’s shoulder. It was weirdly clingy of him.

“What is it?” sighed Minho, patting him on the head.

“Can we go home?” mumbled Jisung, “Watch a film or something?”

Truth be told, Minho wanted to keep skating but he could tell Jisung wasn’t in the condition to do much. He relented easily.

“Of course, Sungie.”

*

“Squirrel-face, budge up,” commanded Minho imperiously, jostling Jisung on the bed. “I’m literally falling off the side.”

“Not my fault your fat ass is wider than half of the bed,” grumbled Jisung, but he still shifted a fraction to give Minho more space.

“My ass is sexy, ass-face. Can’t say the same for your extended back.” Minho sounded extremely pleased with his insult. 

“Can we just go to sleep?” Jisung demanded, reaching out to switch off the bedside lamp, “It’s bloody three in the morning.”

“Who kept saying ‘last episode’ over and over again?”

OK, maybe Minho had a point.

“You butt-face,” added Minho as an afterthought.

“All you do is add a word onto ‘face’. Your roasting game is weak as fuck.”

“It’s three in the morning,” Minho threw Jisung’s words back at him.

They lapsed into silence. But the bed really wasn’t made for two grown men so Jisung turned onto his side to get more room. It was Minho’s fault they were squished here anyway, the bastard had refused to go back to his bed after they finished the anime, too drowsy and warm in Jisung’s room to move.

When Minho’s breathing evened out, Jisung was still wide awake. He had half a mind to go crash in Minho’s bed instead so he could get a few hours of decent rest. He’d shared a single bed with Seungmin before and it hadn’t been pleasant. The duvet couldn’t cover both of them so cold air would waft over the exposed parts of your body and half your body dangled off the side. However Minho hated anyone else sleeping on his bed (that clean freak) so they always hung out in Jisung’s room, who didn’t give a single shit. The only event that was allowed to happen on Minho’s bed was sleeping. He claimed that it meant his mind only associated beds with sleep so he could sleep better. It made Minho rather inflexible, but what could you do? It was probably why Minho had been so soft and grabby as it got later, being in Jisung’s bed was undoubtedly making him sleepy. Jisung had not exactly hated Minho.

It was kind of cute.

Jisung pondered a while longer and decided against sneaking into Minho’s bed when the mattress rustled and the weight distribution shifted as Minho rolled over, emitting a low snore. Carefully, with minimal movement, Jisung flipped over to a more comfortable position, this time on his side as well.

As he swivelled around in bed, he came face to face with the grainy outline of Minho in the dark, fast asleep. Even asleep, lines still creased Minho’s forehead and travelled the junction between his brows. His face was pinched in a frown. It was hard for the guy to catch a break and just relax.

Jisung extended a thumb, about to try and smooth the wrinkle between Minho’s brow. He caught a hold of himself as the pad of his thumb brushed dry skin, only for Minho’s nose to twitch like a bunny and turn his head away.

That was when it occurred to Jisung he was totally fucked. Warmth stirred within his chest, fond and bright. Somewhere along the way, his heart decided the distance between him and Minho was still too much and decided it wanted even more closeness. To reach a new level of intimacy, the romantic kind. The final push might have been at the ice rink. Ten sidling up to Minho had irritated Jisung unfathomably.

Now he’d developed a giant crush on the man lying next to him.

God, it was all Minho’s fault! How was Jisung _not_ meant to like him when Minho was so beautiful and funny and smart and clicked so well with Jisung? When they’d kissed, Jisung hoped to God he wasn’t the only one who felt the chemistry between them. That was one of the downsides of being a creative genius though. His mind could cook up just about anything. Including delusions. The image of Minho in only his boxers flashed through his mind and a tidal wave of heat hit him.

At least Jisung had gotten a kiss in. That surely counted as luck being on his side. Getting a kiss from someone straight and previously homophobic sounded extraordinary. The memory still made the corners of his mouth quirk up. It would be the one grand burst of fireworks to remember his feelings for Minho by.

Jisung had already given up on the situation. He wasn’t sure if Minho had it within him to keep things the same if he knew Jisung wasn’t his straight bro and that Jisung wanted to remove the ‘b’ from ‘bromance’ with Minho. Which was why Jisung just kept letting Minho assume Jisung was straight. He didn’t want to break that belief. Until Jisung hovered too close to the flame and got burned, he would keep his feelings locked up in a chest. And buried deep undersea with a tentacled monstrosity to guard it.

In the rare chance Minho _was_ into him, it was complicated as well. From what Jisung could gather, he suspected Minho was still hung up on his ex-girlfriend so he couldn’t see him jumping into dating anyone, much less a man. And he doubted that Minho would willingly date a man publicly. No, it’d be kept under wraps, confined and private, nothing obvious that would out them as a couple.

He was already verging into fantasy territory, getting ahead of himself. The problem with that was Jisung wasn’t willing to have his relationship stay secret forever. He couldn’t stand to see his feelings being treated like something dirty and shameful. Perhaps it was callous to think of a relationship so pragmatically, rather than keeping a ‘love conquers all’ attitude but Jisung figured it didn’t hurt to be realistic.

Jeongin and Hyunjin were doing the secret relationship gimmick. Hyunjin was going to be a public figure if he really made it in the showbiz industry and his career would be finished before it even began if outsiders caught wind of him dating Jeongin. Outside their close-knit friend group, no one else knew, which was how it would have to stay for many years. It would also be hard for Jeongin to get a job as a teacher or social worker or anything with kids if he were openly out with Hyunjin - homophobic parents would never stop protesting it.

Minho was going to be a doctor – how many patients would refuse treatment from someone on the grounds of their sexuality? In Korea, still quite a few.

Some might call it taking the easy way out, not facing society head-on and being brave and fearless and all that. That was how Jisung used to think things would be. He would say ‘fuck you’ to anyone who stood in his way and if he couldn’t find acceptance, he would move on to a place where he could find it. When he was younger, maybe Jisung would have approached it that way.

But hiding your relationship was also the hard way. Always paranoid of your surroundings and who was watching. Not knowing who to trust, who to be open with and always hiding an integral part of your life. No, Jisung couldn’t live like that.

The list continued like this, a huge compilation of reasons why Minho was unreachable and a relationship was unfeasible. It was common sense. Jisung needed to stay grounded in reality.

That didn’t make it hurt any less though. Being in love was a wonderful feeling. But being doomed to love someone you couldn’t have, well. His chest squeezed painfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is one day late again but this chapter turned out waay longer than expected. felt like i was writing filler but then they were also kinda significant so idk...?
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoy :)


	11. Tell The World That I'm Still Here Tonight

Minho watched Jisung bounce up and down on his bulging suitcase.

“It’s not going to work,” he warned. “Just re-pack your clothes, for god’s sake.”

The plastic case let out an ominous creak as Jisung jumped on it, full force for the fifth time.

“It’s gonna fit! This is how I always pack!” To Minho, it looked like Jisung’s constant jumping on his suitcase was taking its toll. The poor thing looked a few jumps away from collapsing.

In contrast, Minho’s suitcase was already zipped and closed, every item inside rolled or folded neatly. Rain pattered against the window and Minho began to scroll through his phone, bored of watching Jisung’s struggles.

“Hey, we have to leave soon if we want to catch the next train.” Ugh, screw it. Minho shoved Jisung out the way, ignoring his protests and opened it. A few stray socks and one pair of obnoxiously yellow boxers popped out.

“I’ll fit your clothes in your suitcase, go pack the rest of your stuff,” Minho commanded. Jisung gave him a sheepish smile and a salute before heading off to his room, no doubt to stuff his laptop and recording equipment pell-mell into another bag.

Minho was going to force Jisung to learn to pack normally when they got back. He carded through the rumpled clothes unceremoniously stuffed inside the case and began folding them.

They’d made it through the first term to the Christmas holidays. The last two weeks had been an uphill battle, past the tough winter exams. They were both on their knees praying that they hadn’t failed them. Failure meant a retake for when they returned in January, which consequently meant Christmas would be spent frantically revising. The results would be emailed to them the following day, letting them know if Christmas would be relaxed or stressful.

Despite Jisung fretting about how he bombed his exam several times a day, Minho was pretty sure he would pass with flying colours. Minho was uncertain about himself though, mainly because he had zero recollection of the past week, having panicked and pulled all-nighters to cram.

Jisung was a natural crammer, so he’d been befuddled to see Minho join him at the dining table to revise. He’d told Minho to go to bed, but Minho hadn’t been able to sleep, too busy stressing. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well make use of his time.

They were finally going home, the university didn’t allow lodging over the holidays. Minho only knew because Jisung had complained about this to him. His parents had flown out to America to see Jisung’s sister, who had birthed ‘Satan’s spawn’, to quote Jisung. Jisung turned down the invite to Christmas in the States - he wasn’t about to become an unpaid babysitter and had planned to stay at his home by himself.

In theory, this was solid because all of Jisung’s high school friends were his university friends so Jisung thought he’d end up tagging along to someone’s family’s festivities somehow.

Jisung returned to the living room with a rucksack straining to burst over his shoulders. He looked over Minho’s shoulder at his rearranged suitcase in wonder.

“You’re amazing.”

“If you pack things in an organised form, they’re more likely to be closer together and have less empty space between them then if you randomly throw things in,” explained Minho. “It’s not hard to understand.”

“No, that was already too much for me, it’s Christmas, I’m not thinking about school till we get back!” They were finally ready to leave, at last minute as usual.

Minho chivvied Jisung out of the apartment and the pair of them scurried out into the downpour, luckily kitted in raincoats, and holding umbrellas. Jisung’s umbrella, for some reason, was covered in those anime girls. He’d insisted it was an ironic birthday present from Chan that he used as a joke but Minho wasn’t so sure those were Jisung’s true feelings towards the umbrella, which he seemed to cherish dearly.

The university was situated near the train station specifically for student convenience, so a short trudge through the puddles, Minho pulled his carrier across shiny wet floors and squinted ahead at the LED board, displaying their train times.

Great, it was delayed. The orange ‘delayed’ flashed mockingly at him. Beside him, Jisung didn’t seem too fussed.

“I thought we were going to miss it though, so at least we know we’ll make it,” he said airily.

“We wouldn’t have missed it because I made sure we left at right time!” Minho collapsed into one of the uncomfortable metal chairs in the waiting room with a huff. “They haven’t even said what time it’s delayed till, it could be for hours because of the rain.”

Jisung sat beside him and filled up the chair next to him with his belongings. “At least we’re together. We can still have fun waiting.”

They watched other trains pull in and out of the platform, unloading floods of people each time. Minho kept an impatient eye on the announcement board, waiting for some kind of news.

“I’m not having fun,” Minho drawled, half an hour later, sinking further and further down in his seat. “You’re no fun to be with.”

“You say that, but whose house am I spending Christmas at?” said Jisung. “Even though we’ve only known each other for a few months...” A strange expression came over him and he abruptly tailed off, leaving Minho none the wiser as to why. “Why don’t we go and get some food?”

When the train finally pulled into the platform, the carriage they got in had no seats and was crowded to bursting. The floor was slippery with wet footprints and there was the musty scent of dampness from all the wet umbrellas and soggy raincoats in the carriage. Minho and Jisung stood in the middle of the aisle, suitcases trapped between their legs to stop them from rolling away.

It was unpleasant and both of them plugged their ears up with music till they got to their stop, unwillingly to talk with all the people around them.

“That was the stalest air I’ve ever breathed,” said Minho, as they sucked in lungful after lungful of fresh air in the car park, waiting for Minho’s parents to come pick them up. He hadn’t even been able to open the window on the hour-long journey because so many people were in the way.

He saw his parents’ car turn into the car park. With a quick gesture to follow at Jisung, they dragged themselves to the car.

“Hi mum,” he greeted as she clambered out the car to suffocate him in a hug. “Let’s do this later, it’s still pouring, you’re gonna get wet!”

His mum had been ecstatic when Minho asked if Jisung could stay over for Christmas, she was still hung up on his first year when Minho hadn’t made any close friends.

“So what do you study, Jisung?” asked his mum warmly, slapping on her ‘guest face’. “Minho hardly mentions his friends when he calls. Not that he calls a lot.”

Ouch. That was a not-so-indirect jab. It wasn’t even true, he just couldn’t be bothered to call every week like his mum wanted.

“It’s because I’m so busy studying or with my friends that I don’t have time,” he shot back.

“Well, Minho calls his parents more often than I do,” said Jisung with a nervous laugh. “And I study Music Composition.”

There was a short but poignant silence as Minho’s parents took this bit of information in. A rather judgemental silence when they realised Jisung wasn’t doing a STEM degree or Law or Medicine.

“Oh, that’s nice,” said Minho’s mum finally. “Where are you planning on going with it?” There was a suggestion that she didn’t think anyone could get that far with it in her tone.

To Minho’s relief, Jisung didn’t come back with a rebuttal. But his response might have made things even worse.

“I’m not too sure,” he shrugged with the air of someone who cared very little. “There’s a lot of paths to take. Might try and become a producer for an entertainment company. Or just make my own music and perform. It depends, really.”

Not having future plans or a concrete idea of what career you were going to choose was a big no-no in his parents’ book.

Jisung’s eyes flickered around the car, settling on nothing in particular. That was how Minho could tell Jisung was actually affected by his mum’s attitude despite his pretence otherwise. He felt the need to speak on Jisung’s behalf.

“Jisung’s really good at music,” he found himself saying. “He’s one of the top students for his course. And our university’s music department is one of the most prestigious in the country. It’s ranked first nationally.”

Jisung looked mystified, he clearly had no clue about any of this. “I just applied for the university because everyone else said they wanted to go there.”

“The course is also oversubscribed and all the applicants have an audition and an interview. Only one in twenty applicants get an interview and one in ten get accepted after that. So Jisung’s already doing amazing.”

“It is amazing,” said Minho’s dad, looking much more approving. “The kind of skills you need for music are ones you have to be born with and enhance. Pure talent for music and all that. I bet your parents are really proud.”

Thankfully, the rest of the drive was less awkward. Minho’s parents insisted on helping Jisung carry his luggage in and he threw a frantic look at Minho as Minho’s dad seized his suitcase from the boot and heaved it inside.

Minho’s house was on a slope so it looked a lot smaller from the front than the back. From the front view, only two floors could be seen but they were actually a total of four floors, decked out in antique furniture (Minho’s mum was antique-crazy).

Jisung let out a loud gasp when they took their things up to Minho’s room, eyeing the chandeliers, the tapestry, the ‘shabby chic’ interior of the dining room. “I knew you were well-off, but I didn’t think your family was fucking loaded.”

“We have a nice house but that’s about it,” said Minho with a grimace. All his parent’s money was invested in it. He couldn’t count how many times people had been shocked at how grand his house was. But in reality, they weren’t huge spenders on much else.

“Jisung, are you sure you don’t want to have your own room? We have guest rooms too.” Minho’s mum poked her head around Minho’s door. She wrinkled her nose slightly. “It doesn’t seem the right way to treat a guest.”

“Oh no, I’m really fine,” said Jisung pleasantly, “I’ve been living with Minho for the whole term, so I don’t mind. We’re here to hang out and stuff, after all.”

“You’re not going to share the bed, are you? It’s not big enough for you two boys. And it’s not really proper.”

“Mum! Of course not,” said Minho, suddenly embarrassed and rather annoyed, despite having shared with Jisung several times at university already. “I was going to use the pull-out bed under my bed, remember?”

“Oh, of course!” She shook her head at herself, face smoothing out. “Looks like I’m getting forgetful in my old age. Your dad’s making dinner now, you two can just relax. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Thanks, mum!” called Minho after her as she shut the door of his room. As soon as he heard the stairs creaking, he knew she was out of earshot. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry about my parents. They’re so old-fashioned and judgemental.”

“I’ve heard worse,” said Jisung, and they began setting up the spare bed. “It’s not like you can control your parent’s beliefs at this point. Mine were dead set against me doing music at first too.”

“How did you get around it then?”

“They just said I had to get into this university or else I had to study another subject. Luckily, I got in so everything was fine. Also, how did you know all that stuff about my course? I didn’t even know that.”

“I looked it up,” said Minho, feeling shy. “I also found out when applying for here. Because my parents care a lot about rankings and being able to brag to other parents’ about how amazing their kid is.”

“Well, thanks for hyping me up in front of your parents,” Jisung with a wide grin, “Maybe they’ll hate me less now. Do you think they think I’m a bad influence?”

“If you still had your hair dyed, then definitely.” His hair was dark brown now and it suited Jisung wonderfully but Minho still quite liked the brighter colours from Jisung’s experimental phase.

They flopped onto Minho’s bed, exhausted from the journey and unpacking. There was also a small glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Minho was grateful Jisung didn’t comment on it.

“Yes, my blue hair’s going to corrupt their goodie-two-shoes nerd.”

Jisung had been corrupting Minho in more ways than one. If his parents knew the reoccurring dreams Minho was still having, Jisung wouldn’t have been allowed within a ten-metre radius of their house. At this point, Minho had given up. He just wasn’t dealing with this until it turned around and confronted him.

After dinner, Minho noticed that snowflakes had replaced the drizzle from earlier, covering the wet streets with a smattering of icing sugar.

“Hey, it’s snowing,” he pointed out to Jisung, who was in the middle of some game on his phone. Then excitement picked up in his voice. When was the last time he’d seen snow? “Jisung, it’s _snowing_!”

There was the faint bang of gunshots from Jisung’s phone, then Jisung pocketed his phone, chuckling at Minho.

“You sound like a little kid.”

“I can’t help it; it hasn’t snowed for years!” There was some entrancing about how the layer of white was covering everything and hiding all the dirt and filth beneath it so the world just looked fresh, clean, and pure.

They spent a moment at the window, watching snowflakes twirl across their vision, some being momentarily lit up by the streetlights lined solemnly across the estate. It was very peaceful yet daunting at the same time. It was that special _home_ feeling you only got after being away for a long time. Minho might detest his parents for many things but home was home.

To share a moment with Jisung like this was wonderful, but fear lurked inside him. Minho felt very exposed - caught up in the excitement of winter and the festive season, he’d shown more of his actual self. And that made him feel vulnerable. He sneaked a glance at Jisung, whose eyes were still fixed on the snow drifting lazily to the ground outside.

Jisung looked different. None of his features had changed, but it was like Minho was seeing him in a new light. Minho could see the falling snowflakes reflected in Jisung’s eyes. A tendril of tenderness hit him and Minho quickly shook it away. Perhaps his attachment to high school Jisung had finally faded because suddenly he could see how grown up Jisung was. It was a coming-of-age moment, Minho reckoned and he was only now accepting next year he would be twenty. A whole new decade of his life would begin.

His eyes raked over each detail meticulously, committing to memory how Jisung’s skin basked in the warm yellow of the lamp. Then Jisung turned to face him, meeting his gaze.

It was a long mesmerising look, full of meanings that Minho couldn’t identify. It felt like several minutes passed between them.

At last, Jisung spoke up.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asked hoarsely.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re…” Minho waited for him to finish the sentence, but it never came. Jisung took a step closer to him, till they were almost face to face and made a frustrated noise under his breath.

“It’s just…are you sure you’ve thought everything through?” Thought _what_ through exactly? Minho expressed his confusion, he could not tell what was going on in Jisung’s head. What was Jisung trying to imply?

“You’re really okay with me staying here for Christmas and letting me rampage through your house?” said Jisung and whatever was hanging over them evaporated into the air. A balance to normality was restored. “Not having second thoughts, right?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Minho flicked Jisung on the forehead and watched him yelp in surprise. “You being here will make it the best Christmas ever. You think I like being stuck with my parents and the rest of my stuffy family?”

Jisung showed all his teeth, grinning broadly. He grabbed Minho by the hand and tugged him towards the living room. Minho’s heart jumped at the sudden touch and his stomach clenched. He couldn’t help still being slightly jumpy about Jisung. Anyone would be if their brain wouldn’t stop producing nonstop B-list fantasies about him.

At midnight, the two of them had finished the film and made their way to the kitchen for a midnight feast. Or late-night snacking, whatever. They’d dug out the ramen stash at the back of the cupboard and now jjamppong ramen was boiling merrily, wafting a rich seafood smell over the kitchen.

Minho could barely remember the plot of the film, it was some nerdy sci-fi film Jisung was into that he personally cared very little about. He didn’t know why Jisung was affecting him much more in the space of his own home, but there Jisung was, practically squashed against Minho the whole time, bony shoulder tight against Minho, pointy elbows digging into his side. It made him lose focus on whatever was happening on-screen. Jisung was so warm and alive and it baffled Minho why the self-consciousness he’d been suppressing was coming out now.

Jisung was chattering about the film with animated gestures and bright eyes and Minho wanted to do nothing but watch.

_Beautiful._

The word pushed itself to the front and tolled like a bell, clean and resonant. It made him fuzzy and confused, the back of his neck warm, not from the steaming bowl of ramen.

“Holy shit,” breathed Jisung before Minho could begin a whole psychoanalysis. “Look how much it’s snowed since the evening.” Minho slurped his ramen and looked at the snow, which looked like it was nearing knee-deep.

“It’s sad how it’s going to be trampled and ruined by cars and people tomorrow morning.”

“Well, nothing’s stopping us from appreciating it now.” Jisung said and they sneaked out the front door quietly, feeling like naughty kids out past their curfew.

Minho shivered in the frosty air, his calves chilled to the bone – they’d sunk completely into the snow. A coat had been hastily slipped over his pyjamas but didn’t help the freezing of his toes.

Most of the houses had their lights off and only one or two windows still had an orange glow emanating from behind curtains. Otherwise, it was only Minho and Jisung, illuminated by the streetlights. The darkness swirled along with the snowflakes.

The snow was settling in Jisung’s hair and Minho brushed it off with stiff frozen fingers. He was happier than he’d been in years. Joy made him run through the snow, leaving deep holes with each step. He only realised he was laughing after he heard it ring through the dead street.

“Don’t you feel like we’re in another universe?” he said to Jisung. Minho was so enamoured by the snow that he was tempted to fall back into it, but self-preservation prevented him.

“How are you so happy, I’m goddamn freezing my balls off here,” Jisung hissed, his hands were tucked under his armpits and his teeth chattered. “C’mon, can we go back inside?” He appeared to be regretting his idea of coming outside.

Minho didn’t hear him, attention fully on the stars blinking above. There was also the moon, nearly hidden from view by the clouds but still gleaming brightly.

No one was watching him or expecting anything from Minho, it was so very freeing. He felt like he could do anything, go anywhere and it wouldn’t matter. So he did something he never would have done otherwise.

“Let’s walk to the end of the street, at least,” Minho pleaded and tugged Jisung’s arms away from himself, his own hands settling snugly around Jisung’s.

Their hands were both cold, but Minho couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Minho,” said Jisung in a strangled voice, looking down at their linked hands. Jisung’s hands were bigger than his, Minho noted and they were more callused. He wondered if it was from writing so many lyrics.

“You looked like your hands are really cold,” Minho replied nonchalantly and lifted them so he could blow puffs of hot air over their hands. Jisung said nothing, but he ambled with Minho down the street and back, hand in hand.

It was Christmas magic, Minho supposed. It was past midnight, so technically Christmas Eve had already begun.

Jisung dropped Minho’s hand like a hot coal when they went back inside and rushed to warm himself against the radiator. They tugged off their soggy trousers without a second thought and Minho’s mouth felt dry at the sight of Jisung’s bare legs, even though he’d seen them hundreds of times before.

Once they were both under the covers, Minho’s mind began to catch up with his actions. But he was ever so tired and the gentle snores from Jisung quickly put him to sleep.

The sensation of liberty he felt in the street earlier followed him into the morning. Christmas Eve was a good day. Jisung called Chan, Hyunjin and the others and Minho spent the morning playing in the snow with them, feeling more like a kid than a university student in his second year. They ran through all the classic things to do in the snow, snowmen, snowball fights, snow angels and sledding. Minho felt as if he’d been dropped straight into the past.

His parents prepared their version of Christmas dinner, a groaning table of Korean dishes, grilled pork belly and premium Korean beef, galbi-tang and fried chicken. All familiar, comforting food, greasy and heart-warming.

His father kept the alcohol cabinet unlocked that night with a subtle wink at Minho, silent permission to drink. Unbelievably Minho had them convinced he didn’t get staggering drunk at university even if he did go out partying, so this was his dad’s idea of a special treat.

He brought a few bottles up to their room, enough for them to get blackout drunk, although he hoped it wouldn’t get to that stage. His mum would kill him if he were hungover on Christmas. Jisung downed the soju like it would dry out if they didn’t finish it fast enough.

“I just realised in all our time at university, I’ve never gotten drunk with you,” said Minho slowly.

They’d never been drinking or clubbing buddies. But Minho preferred it that way. Drunk memories were usually the ones he wanted to forget.

“Oh, am I going to be seeing a whole new side of you?” teased Jisung, cheeks already pink. Cursed Asian flush. “What kind of drunk are you?”

“I seem smart and good usually right?”

“No, not particularly.” Minho gave Jisung a light shove. “OK, go on, tell me.”

“I just lose my inhibitions.” Another good reason for why it was good he didn’t get drunk around Jisung. And maybe why he shouldn’t get drunk with Jisung.

“What, so you flip and become all sexy and dangerous?” Minho rolled his eyes as Jisung guffawed.

“No, I just act stupider. And when I get drunk, I always want to keep drinking and getting drunker.” There were quite a few times he’d drank to the point of blacking out. It was starting to head to places too personal for Minho, so he redirected the question at Jisung.

“Me? I actually have a pretty high tolerance,” said Jisung. So that was why he was still acting totally normal after a whole bottle of soju. “I’m a thoughtful drunk. I get into all that deep philosophical stuff and start talking to the nearest person till the cows come home. So apologies in advance.”

“That sounds fun though,” Minho rarely got to talk about ‘deep stuff’ to anyone, and if anyone was worth having those conversations with, it had got to be Jisung.

After browsing his thoughts, Jisung piped up.

“I get quite creative sometimes and do weird shit. I start composing the oddest things. Sometimes, I wake up to an interesting song or two I wrote when drunk off my ass.”

“Can I listen to any of them?” said Minho eagerly. “Are they all deep and stuff? Or noise or what?”

“No,” grunted Jisung and he opened another bottle of soju, his second. “They’re not fit for human consumption.”

“Maybe when you’ve had a few more bottles, I can watch the process,” said Minho, curled up on the beanbag. Jisung started playing his music in the background, his drinking playlist.

Jisung kept encouraging Minho to drink more, he appeared to have forgotten his tolerance was double that of Minho’s. Soon Minho was at the point his tongue was a lot looser and he had to make an effort to keep a straight line when walking. Jisung was tipsy, but not as far along as Minho.

“Can I ask you something?” said Jisung. He appeared to be starting his drunk talk now.

“Yeah,” Minho said, “Go on.”

“We had what you could call a fight, didn’t we? Or a misunderstanding? You didn’t want to tell me something. But I wanted to ask if everything was okay now?”

Minho didn’t know if it was resolved. Perhaps Joshua would leave him alone now. The radio silence for months was surely a big enough signal that Minho wasn’t interested in ever talking to him again. In Joshua’s defence, he couldn’t have possibly known Minho wasn’t actually into men when drunk Minho had approached him first. Drunk Minho was like a whole different person.

“I think everything’s okay?” Minho wasn’t sure so he left it as a question. “It seems okay for now.”

Jisung crawled way too close to Minho, in between his outstretched legs and watched him apprehensively through half-open eyes.

“Do you think we’re closer than before the fight now?” Jisung leaned back again and took another swig. “I feel as close to you as I do with Chan and Changbin. As in, I’m really comfortable with showing all sides of myself around you.”

_There’s one side you haven’t told me about._

The heated moans from Jisung’s room, that were clearly masculine.

“I can’t help it, I know I shouldn’t be nosy but I’m still really curious about what you wouldn’t tell me. The thing that we fought over. Even if it’s not my place to pry.”

“No, I get it,” said Minho, dizzy with trepidation. In a fancy metaphor, Minho had always hidden part of himself behind a locked door, if you will. It had never been opened for anyone, not even Hyunjin, who knew more about him than anyone else. Minho didn’t want anyone to see what was past the door, full of his worst moments. But he wanted someone to know this side of him too. It was exhausting to keep it hidden. Cognitive dissonance sucked. He was a walking paradox.

“You can trust me,” promised Jisung, then he chortled. “I’m not trying to manipulate you, promise. You spill some deep stuff and I’ll tell you things I haven’t told you in return.”

Minho poured himself a glass with some difficulty and downed it in one. His coordination was already reduced and his hands were trembling. Thankfully, the renewed fire in his belly relaxed him. He wasn’t sure how to begin but now Jisung had proposed the idea, Minho wanted to speak about it. Let it out. Give Jisung half of his burden.

“You won’t hate me?” asked Minho. He hated how his voice came out so small and weak. So unsure of himself. Each quaver in his voice spoke volumes, insecurity oozing out. He didn’t think he would start acting like this. All weak and so utterly mortifying.

“I could never hate you,” Jisung wasn’t looking at him but out the window. “I never hated you, even in high school.”

“Really?” The words escaped from Minho, too curious about the confession. Some part of him was warning himself that it was a dangerous route of conversation. Jisung coughed shyly.

“I just didn’t have the courage to go against everyone else and come talk to you. I was still starstruck by you then. I wish I did now though. You looked lonely in our last year, even if you had Jeongyeon.”

“Oh, I was,” admitted Minho. It was incredibly refreshing to hear the words spoken out loud. “My first year here was terrible. I don’t even know how I got through it.”

He had been a golden boy turned dull. A hollow boy, fading to dust without his friends. Some of his shine was back now though, covered in careful promise. Minho scoffed. The fancy metaphors were really pouring out of him today. He usually left that to Jisung.

Minho shuffled across the floor so he was next to Jisung, both leaning against the radiator below the window sill. Only the desk light was on, so they were shrouded in shadow, making them feel almost unseen again. Just like it had been last night in the snow.

“Honestly, I did want to tell you back then when you asked. But I was freaking out and got too scared so I clammed up…I don’t think it’s your fault. It’s mine.” Jisung looked stricken and automatically reached down for Minho’s hand, an unconscious gesture.

The gesture was sincere, but Minho’s fingers were cold, slippery and damp, like a dead fish. But Minho kept silent and just appreciated it, gripping on tightly.

“Don’t worry. I won’t judge. It’s only between us.” Jisung gave Minho permission to confess. _I don’t mind what burden you’re going to put on me. I’ll take it. I’ll still be here._

His head was faint. Minho wouldn’t be surprised if he really fainted. His nerves were strung tight, pulled taut. His breathing shallowed and his grip on his glass tensed.

A squeeze on his hand grounded him. Minho was drunk. He’d probably regret telling Jisung in the morning. Fuck it.

So he would regret it in the morning. But this was now.

“I don’t think I’m straight,” Minho whispered. Had Jisung not been as close as he was, he wouldn’t have heard it.

The world didn’t shift. It didn’t burst into flames and burn. No, nothing happened, except Jisung blinked once, twice and then a few times in rapid succession.

Thankfully, he said nothing. Minho wasn’t sure if he’d have the courage to continue otherwise.

It all overflowed and Minho saw that door in his mind swing open, unleashing a torrent of waves, his suffocated emotions, piled up together. It all flowed out, splashing over the edges. Every time his voice trailed off, he took another sip from the bottle, the cold glass numbing his upper lip.

From the very beginning, it all flooded from his lips and Jisung acknowledged him with silent understanding.

Five-year-old Minho listened as the priest told the congregation homosexuality was a sin. How his parents cut off all contact with his aunt. He’d asked why and they said she’d made the wrong choice. Men could only love women and women could only love men. That was the way God made the world and it was a rule everyone had to obey.

At eleven, Minho knew his parents were wrong about that. They were close-minded and old-fashioned. Homosexuality wasn’t a sin. Or even it was religiously, there was nothing morally bad about it. Gay people could even get married in some countries. But in Korea, they still faced a lot of persecution. That was fine because Minho wasn’t gay. It wasn’t something he needed to worry about anyway.

He couldn’t shake off his childhood influence though. Being gay still fell into the same category as lying to the teacher about your homework. It wasn’t terrible, but still frowned upon. The undeniable weight of wrongness was always associated with it. People would talk behind your back if they knew, exclude you purposely. Society wasn’t kind to gay people. Minho didn’t want to subject himself to a life of fear. But it was out of his control.

Minho’s voice was starting to grow scratchy with talking. He told Jisung about the fight with Hyunjin again and then ventured into even more uncertain territory.

“I realised I didn’t love Jeongyeon anymore. That was fine, I always knew it wouldn’t last forever.” It was now or never. Minho braced himself, the words pressed at the tip of his tongue.

He let them fall.

“She visited me and we had a fight. She left. Then I…I got drunk and went to a club by myself. I hooked up with a guy. I cheated on her.”

Jisung went completely still beside him. He even stopped breathing.

“After that, we broke up soon. Jeongyeon realised I didn’t love her anymore. But I didn’t care that much then.”

His shoulders hurt.

“When I remembered that night, I was so confused. I just didn’t want to think about it so I tried to forget about it. You know, it was just a mistake I made when I was drunk. It didn’t mean anything. I almost managed to completely forget about it too until I went to a party at the beginning of this year.”

“Is that the one where Chan saw you?” Minho nodded. He hated thinking about both these incidents, even if the Joshua incident was still extremely blurry and jumped frame to frame.

“I got ridiculously drunk after I saw him with his boyfriend. It made me feel uncomfortable and I didn’t want to think about it so I went to drink it out my system. But then I ended up making out with Joshua.”

“Joshua, as in Jisoo our neighbour?” Jisung tried to keep his tone neutral, but Minho saw the shock underneath it.

“I didn’t know he was at the time. I never saw him again after and only realised when I saw him in the elevator. That was when you asked me what was wrong but I didn’t want to say anything. Because I didn’t want to think about it again. That time when you helped me when I was panicking or whatever. It was because I finally remembered what happened at the party.” He waited for Jisung to walk out on him, disgusted. It never came.

Their hands were still clasped in a warm sweaty grip.

“Minho, I’m so sorry,” Jisung swore hotly under his breath. “Fuck…I feel terrible. It wasn’t my place to ask back then. Thank you for trusting me now though.”

“Jisung, I’m really scared,” Minho said, the ends of his words trailing on longer than they should be. He was slurring slightly, a sign he was beginning to lose control.

“I think I could be gay. Maybe I could like guys? But I don’t want to be gay. I don’t fucking want to be gay. I don’t want to feel like this. I’m just so confused. I don’t know if I still like girls too or not, it’s just a fucking mess. So I never want to think about it. But I know I have to at some point and I wanted to tell someone but I never had anyone who would listen. Because I’ve been trying by myself for so long and I keep fucking up. Because I’m a coward who’s too afraid to face his own feelings.”

Minho’s strength seeped from him and he felt utterly exhausted, like he’d just run up a mountain non-stop. He finally set the bottle down, no longer in need of liquid courage. It was all out now.

“You’re not a coward,” said Jisung gently, leaning his head onto Minho’s shoulder. “It was extremely brave of you to tell me. I’ll say it again. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” said Minho, falling into the warm comfort of alcohol now he’d said it all. It was too raw right now and he felt the need to diffuse the tension. He didn’t know if he felt lighter though. A small pit had gathered in his stomach. It kept growing.

“Thank you for being trustworthy enough for me to feel comfortable telling you.”

“I’ll say something too,” Jisung said. Minho noticed he hadn’t touched the drinks for a while. “I’m not straight either.”

_I know._

Minho waited for him to say he was gay.

“But I wouldn’t say I’m gay either,” said Jisung. “Or even bisexual or pansexual or anything. I hated how it felt like I needed to choose a label. There are so many labels and definitions and I just found I didn’t care. I hated them.”

“For some people, a label is freeing. To have something to identify yourself with. But they’re so stifling. I could think for hours and hours about what my sexuality is, who I’m attracted to. But how do I really know? I’ll know when I like someone.”

“So I decided I didn’t want a label. If someone asked me my sexuality, I’d just say I didn’t care. Or maybe I just don’t know. But I wouldn’t label myself as uncertain either. I know when I like someone.”

“I usually like guys. Some people might call me gay. They can if they want, but I don’t accept that label. Not to preach, but maybe you could try that point of view? You’re so fixated on if you’re gay or straight but why do you have to pick a side?”

“If you like someone, just like them, for fuck’s sake.” Minho would have slow clapped if he weren’t in so much shock.

“Can it really be that easy?” he said hesitantly. “I just refuse to find a sexuality altogether?”

“Why do you have to make your life harder than it is?” Jisung returned. “Life is already hard enough. And you’ve clearly been beating yourself about it for god knows how long.”

The world burned a little brighter and the lines of flatness dimmed a little. So Minho could choose like this? By choosing to not make a choice. Was it that simple? So what was he feeling right now?

“You’re amazing,” smiled Minho dopily. Daisies sprouted in the field of his mind and the weeds wilted. Yet another cheesy metaphor was popping out. “You’re so…”

He didn’t have the words to express what he wanted to say about Jisung, so he settled on grasping the other boy’s shoulders, searching for the right words. The need for closeness overtook him, and he pressed his fingers into Jisung, feeling the warmth of his skin through his t-shirt. His fingers felt loose and disconnected so he maybe he grasped harder than necessary, causing Jisung to inhale sharply in pain.

The right words never came to mind, but Minho found he knew exactly what he wanted to tell Jisung. With a sloppy drunken motion, Minho nearly headbutted Jisung, tackling him in an embrace. Jisung’s back hit the carpet with a small thump and he stared upwards at Minho, lips parted as if he were about to ask what on earth Minho was doing. His chest rose and sank rapidly, but he didn’t push Minho off.

Minho guessed he wouldn’t. Now that he looked, there had been signs all along.

It took Minho back to his first startling dream, where Jisung had pinned him to his desk. It seemed so contrite and faraway now and a smile curved across his face.

He peered down at Jisung, zeroing in on his lips, and decided to lean downwards to touch Jisung’s thin upper, adorned with a sharp Cupid’s bow, to his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my favourite chapter out of the whole story, especially because I wrote it after a long period of writer's block. I feel like the style changes here slightly, but for the better. 
> 
> So much happened in this chapter and I added a lot of details I can relate to so it's quite meaningful to me as well. I also absolutely love Christmas and snow so writing that part was very fun and self-indulgent. 
> 
> Just to add in, when Jisung asked Minho if he'd thought things through, he was wanting to ask if Minho was really straight because the way Minho was staring was not how a friend looks at a friend :). 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it and it's not late for once!  
> besthonestliar x


	12. This Meaningless Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please see trigger warnings at the bottom!
> 
> (I have not included them at the top as they contain pretty big spoilers for the chapter)

“Why do you want to become a doctor?” The woman in the middle said to Minho. “I’m sure you expected to be asked this.” She didn’t smile at him.

Minho knew the interviewers had a reputation for pushing their applicants so he wasn’t fazed. He rattled off a textbook answer, but with enough personal touch that it didn’t sound dramatic or forced.

“I got thought being a doctor was cool when I was younger.” This usually earned him a polite nod or warm smile. His interviewers remained unmoved. “As I got older, my curiosity became a full-on interest and I actively began exploring Medicine as a potential career. My work experience is what really confirmed it as a future path for me.”

When he received his CSAT result and was accepted for Medicine, Minho was beyond elated. He was shaping out great as the model child. A good university, studying Medicine to boot and dating his high school sweetheart. Just the life his parents had imagined for him. Hyunjin was no longer in his life. No one Minho knew dared to pry into it. He never talked about it again.

_It’ll be OK. You can have a fresh start at university. Make new friends, begin again._

His mum told him at dinner that Hyunjin would be going to the same university at him. Studying something along the lines of Performing Arts. She looked hopeful and was on the verge of asking if Minho could finally make up with his childhood friend. Minho lost his appetite but forced down the celebration dinner his dad had spent so long on making for him, stomach churning unpleasantly.

_I thought I would be free of this stupid town and everything in it. I just need Jeongyeon and nobody else. I don’t want to see Hyunjin ever again. I don’t fucking want to deal with fuck fuck fuck it…_

He ripped that piece of paper in half after ranting his feelings onto them. Then, just to be on the safe side, put it through the paper shredder. It was safer for all his bad thoughts to stay inside him. Not even Jeongyeon could access the place he guarded so fiercely.

Minho’s grades dropped dangerously low in his second semester. That was logical because it followed his tryst with Ten. An easy diagnosis. He sunk low enough for the professor to tell him the date for the retake, without an ounce of sympathy in her voice. Minho’s promises to do better next time had become empty to her.

It nearly spilled out back then. He shamelessly lied to his parents and kept them in the dark.

How was he meant to help others if he couldn’t even help _himself_? Minho would sort it out. He had to. He narrowly scraped a pass on the retake and vowed to get his grades back on track.

It had been coming for a long time. Jeongyeon broke up with him, with only a month to end of year exams. Minho again wobbled dangerously on the tightrope he’d chosen to walk on. He thought the time for him to fall off had finally arrived.

In a drunken rage after the breakup, his notes lay ripped and scattered around his room. Minho collected them one by one, attempted to tape them back together then threw the whole lot out in the recycling.

With a pounding headache, Minho realised he had _no one_ now _._ Not one single soul in this universe gave a damn about him. It was an awfully daunting prospect. He hadn’t made good friends with anyone on his course, let alone at university. Minho was a loner. Really alone. His parents _did not_ count.

He found himself sitting on the edge of his window, four floors up. They shouldn’t have designed the windows to swing so far open. Minho looked down, at the people strolling past the student halls and wondered if there was a chance he could be saved from a fall at this distance. He’d need to aim for a landing that killed him instantly, snapped his neck or his spine. Just in case. His legs dangled downwards.

Just one push and he wouldn’t feel so upset. He’d never feel upset again. It was threatening and alluring. A thrill. But on top of that, Minho was a coward. No, he didn’t fear death. He’d seen it himself already and peered into eyes that couldn’t peer back in the hospital. But he feared a future where he spent the rest of his life connected to tubes, unable to move, totally dependent on the care of others. While the world watched him with pitying eyes. Knowing that everything got too much for Lee Minho so he’d attempted to take his own life.

The thought of everyone knowing he couldn’t cope was terrifying. He wasn’t going to take any risks unless he was certain he would be dead. Even if he wound up in a coma or something, Minho couldn’t risk still being alive. Suicide was one thing he couldn’t fuck up.

With that in mind, he swung his legs away from the window and locked it. Maybe another time.

A thought struck him. Many stray thoughts flew past him these days, like ‘should I just jump and get hit by the train?’ or ‘why not walk in front of that oncoming lorry?’. This one was more optimistic.

Minho would never have no one because he still had himself. As long as he had himself, he could keep going. With this reaffirming thought, he packed down all his worries, jumped up and down on them to fit them into his confines. Then he cast his illusion of the perfect son. The perfect child. He partied, he studied, he balanced it all. No, he was too busy for a dating life. Besides, he was perfectly happy right now. Minho was a friend to all and a friend to none.

But he could live like this. See, he didn’t need help from friends. He’d gotten himself back on track. Still, the voices spoke on the contrary, discouraging him.

Till Jisung appeared like a breath of fresh air in his life. Would it be a stretch to call him Minho’s saviour?

“ _Thank you_ ,” he mumbled against Jisung’s lips, which were bitter with alcohol. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

There was no hesitation in his actions, Minho was on _fire._ Heat flared up inside him and poured out as he licked at Jisung’s lips messily, entranced in the sensation. He sucked at Jisung’s bottom lip, wet with saliva and realised it wasn’t unfamiliar. A rush that had shot through him at the truth or dare game.

In shock, Jisung stood up and gave Minho a rough shove that had him fumbling to regain his balance.

He fell back against the side of the bed and used it to unsteadily prop himself up.

“Did you kiss me at the party?” Minho gasped out. God, his vision was _swimming_. Jisung blurred in and out of the shadows in front of him.

“Minho, we need to stop and talk about this, holy shit!” Jisung always rambled on so much but now he found himself speechless as Minho staggered towards him.

“Did you?” he said, breathing erratic. “Did you kiss me, Jisung?”

“Yes I did,” Jisung confessed, looking extremely unhappy about it. “But Minho, you’re _drunk_ and like, seriously emotionally vulnerable right now-”

“I kind of hoped it would be you.” He’d said many words tonight and too many things were spilled but he tripped over these words eagerly. “Jisung. Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.”

In chanting his name, Minho staggered back to Jisung, oblivious to how Jisung stared like he’d never met Minho before.

“Please,” he heard himself say. “Please, please, _please.”_ Then Jisung’s self-control slipped a little and he just stood helplessly as Minho tugged Jisung towards him, letting him slot their lips together again.

Minho was more aggressive this time, unspoken emotions pouring out. Like a rainstorm, he fell suddenly and all at once. His arms wrapped around Jisung’s back, pressing him close, sliding up to his shoulders and back down. It was comfortable and reassuring. It was what he’d needed all along.

He pushed Jisung down, while they were still connected at the lips, letting his tongue swipe against Jisung’s lips tentatively till Jisung’s surprised gasp gained him entrance to explore further.

A wild frenetic energy spiked Minho’s energy levels and he was already drunk, but now he was drunk off the taste of Jisung too, restless for more. More and more. His palms slid beneath Jisung’s t-shirt along smooth skin and trailed hot blazes over his ribs.

Minho slid his mouth from the corner of Jisung’s mouth down to the top of his neck, sucking and nibbling and just feeling _alive._ His chest was so tight he could barely breathe, panting against Jisung like some animal.

“Minho!” said Jisung in a choked voice. He was tense as a board. Minho felt the vague sensation of hands pulling weakly at his hair. “Stop.”

His lips had already wandered to the dip of Jisung collarbones and his hands slid downwards, caressing Jisung’s hip bones, rubbing small circles.

“Minho,” Jisung said pleadingly. “Stop it.”

Jisung whimpered and his whole body shook with tremors. It only spurred Minho on further.

One of his hands snaked lower, fingers curling beneath the Jisung’s waistband. Minho wanted to make Jisung fall apart. He wanted to hear the same breathy moans Jisung had made that day Minho overheard him at their apartment. He would be the reason Jisung came undone.

“Minho,” Jisung’s voice cracked and Minho froze. So intent and high on the thrill, he’d barely noticed Jisung’s lack of reciprocation. The moment he stopped moving, Jisung again shoved Minho with weak arms off him and kicked him in the stomach, hard.

Minho doubled over on the floor, coughing and groaning. His eyes watered in pain and tears misted his vision momentarily. The pain grounded him and helped him come to his senses. His vision was pounding in and out of focus before him. He slowly raised his gaze from the floor to Jisung, who was sitting on the bed, breathing heavily.

Jisung had not been moaning with enjoyment. He wasn’t trembling from how good it felt. He was crying now, huge sobs that wracked his lanky frame. Tears pooled in his eyes and trickled slowly over his face; the face Minho had just caressed.

“I asked you to _stop_.” He said, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t want it like this. Not like this.”

Minho just stared, pupils blown and mouth hanging open, not entirely comprehending Jisung’s words.

Jisung tried to gather what was left of his composure. Too much had happened too fast, in such a short span of time.

Minho was crazy when he was drunk, he’d said so himself. In a vulnerable drunken state, he’d latched onto Jisung because Jisung was the only person there, who had been comforting Minho the whole time. But now he was scaring Jisung.

This didn’t feel good. He didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Minho’s misguided drunk feelings, a brief experiment of Minho accepting himself. It would be all too easy to pretend it was because Minho liked him and to go along with this madness but Jisung would only hate himself when he woke up the next day. He knew he should leave right now. Yet part of him was still soft, still concerned for Minho. He didn’t know if that was right or wrong. He didn’t particularly care right now.

“Get in bed.” He said wearily and watched as Minho dragged himself to the bed and collapsed on it in a boneless heap. Then he left the room, dragging the futon with him.

*

Christmas began in the worst way.

Minho stirred, limbs tired and sore. The bitterness of last night’s drinks was still concentrated on his tongue and he gagged, cracking open an eye to reach for the glass of water he usually kept by his bedside. There was no glass there. He turned over to ask Jisung to fetch him a glass if he was faring better than Minho, who almost groaned at how exhausted he still was. He might as well have not slept at all.

_Jisung._

He had not been drunk enough to forget this time around. Panic stomped over Minho and his stomach tightened as a sickly sour taste prickled the back of his throat. He threw up where he was, eyes squeezed shut, not caring about the disgusting mess that was probably spread across his bed now.

_Where was Jisung?_

He sprinted down the steps, two at a time, almost skidding and falling, body still heavy, and lumbered to the kitchen. His parents turned to see who it was.

“Jisung?” asked Minho. Acid burned the corners of his mouth.

“Didn’t he tell you?” said his mum. “He left early this morning. Said something about a family emergency.”

It was real. It was too real. It had happened. Now Jisung was gone.

Minho nodded numbly to his parents then turned around and went up the stairs, before they registered the exact state he was in. A complete mess. The same clothes as yesterday, hair rumpled and hatred for himself pooling in every pore of his body.

He shut his door behind him and as if in catharsis with his favourite dramas, sank to the floor in dismay and waited for the tears to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw suicidal thoughts/idealisation  
> This begins at "Minho was a loner. Really alone. His parents did not count..." and finishes at "Minho would never have no one because he still had himself."
> 
> tw vomiting  
> This begins at "He had not been drunk enough to forget this time around." and finishes at "“Didn’t he tell you?” said his mum. “He left early this morning. Said something about a family emergency.”
> 
> tw possibly dubious consent? essentially Minho tries to touch Jisung sexually at one point but realises Jisung isn't reciprocating and is asking him to stop, then stops. To explain in further detail, I wasn't sure whether it qualifies as dubious consent but put it in the tw just in case? I'm trying to hope it doesn't come off as such and more that they're both very emotional and confused and hopefully that's the message that was put across. But I can also see the implications of it so...
> 
> This begins at "A wild frenetic energy spiked Minho’s energy levels and he was already drunk, but now he was drunk off the taste of Jisung too, restless for more." and finishes at "Minho was crazy when he was drunk, he’d said so himself. In a vulnerable drunken state, he’d latched onto Jisung because Jisung was the only person there, who had been comforting Minho the whole time. But now he was scaring Jisung."
> 
> Bit of a shorter chapter but my take on chapter length is it can be however long or short I require teehee. Anyway this is closer to the length of my earlier chapters
> 
> and i realised i forgot to say this, but i really really appreciate the kudos and comments so much! comments always make me really happy!
> 
> besthonestliar x


	13. Dried Out But Feel Like I Should Cry

No tears would come. Even with the huge tangle of emotions inside him, it refused to manifest physically. It was trapped within him, painful but immovable.

Minho wanted to scream. He wanted to dramatically sweep everything off his desk and trash his room, run out into the snow, and keep running till he collapsed. The untouched snow now mocked him, clean and pure when Minho was dirty. If only he could reach inside and scrub himself till his insides were sparkling clean and rid himself of this horrible gnawing in his stomach.

His reflection stared dully back at him, prominent purple crescents below his eyes.

He let the world turn black as he shut his eyes and tried to breathe. In, out, in, out-

“Minho, we’re having lunch soon!” called his dad from downstairs. The faint clattering of bowls could be heard.

Minho pressed his eyelids harder together in frustration. The world wasn’t going to stop for him to take everything in. He didn’t have the luxury of sitting around, moping and feeling sorry for himself. This time it would be up to him to fix the situation, if the situation were even salvageable. He wasn’t allowed to feel sorry for himself. There would be no excuses. Minho was just a piece of shit.

He got up and took his puke-covered duvet to the bathroom, rinsing it out first under the shower.

“I’ll be down soon!” he yelled back, hoping nothing came through in his voice, although it was tired and scratchy. “Just let me wash up and get dressed!”

The last thing he wanted to do was eat.

Once his sheets were tumbling around in the washing machine, a hint of normality resumed. Perhaps Minho could get through this day. He turned the water in his shower to scalding and relished in the hot spray of water cascading down him, stinging his skin red and raw as if he could wash the remnants of last night away.

It was suffocating as the water ran down his face, plastering his hair to his forehead and eyes. He could barely breathe in the hot steam around him. It was like a reset. Minho almost felt new until he found himself in his darkened room, hunched in the corner as Jisung looked at him, utterly distraught.

Minho reached out and twisted the temperature on the shower to its coldest setting. Within seconds, icy water drenched him and he shivered miserably but it felt deserved. A small punishment made him feel better.

At least he was clean outside.

In his room, Jisung’s hoodie was still hanging on the back of his door. Feeling like an utter creep, Minho unhooked it and hugged it to his chest, inhaling deeply. Tears started creeping into the corners of his eyes so he tucked it deep into his wardrobe, out of sight and out of mind.

The rest of the day was spent going through the motions. Minho chattered pointlessly with his parents at lunch, which was just the leftovers from yesterday reheated. He had no recollection of anything he said. They went on a walk after in the snow because they were a good family. A picture-perfect family where nothing was wrong.

The sunshine glinted off the frozen branches, lighting them up like fire. Even though it was early afternoon, pink and orange sunset dappled the sky.

“It’s been such a long time since it’s snowed here,” said Minho’s mum. “It’s beautiful.”

They trudged along the path by the frozen river.

“Minho, do you remember how you used to play in the snow with Hyunjin when you were little?” said his dad. There was a pause as his parents sent him a sideways glance. Minho had hesitated a beat too long.

“Of course I do,” he replied brightly. “Actually, I met up with Hyunjin along with the other guys from high school to play in the snow.” His parents beamed, happy their son had fixed everything, no more stains on his reputation. His one misstep now fixed.

If only they knew the truth about Hyunjin. Then they’d be encouraging him to stay away.

They trudged along the path in their wellies, knee-deep in snow. A robin’s red breast was visible against the snow-covered branches. Minho raised his phone to take a photo, thinking he could show Jisung later as his mind slipped.

Oh. It was painful how ingrained Jisung was into all the corners of his life now.

“Any girls catch your eye this year?” asked his dad teasingly.

“Yes, I’ve been partying and chasing girls nonstop all semester,” said Minho sarcastically. “Of course not, dad, I’ve just been studying and hanging out with friends.”

“Jeongyeon was such a sweet girl,” Minho’s mum said wistfully to no one in particular. Minho really wished she would shut up. His parents enquiring into his love life was the opposite of pleasant conversation. He was almost tempted to say boys were catching his eye now but his self-preservation didn’t allow it.

“Mum, can we not do this now?” he complained, kicking at a bush on the side. A spray of snow fell to the ground in a clump.

“But you seemed so good together. It’s been so long, Minho, can’t you tell us what happened? She was your first serious relationship after all. And she stuck with you after you and Hyunjin…” His mum realised her lack of tact slightly too late and picked up her pace, forcing them to match her.

“Well, we clearly weren’t good enough to last,” Minho muttered moodily. “Mum, I just stopped liking her as much. People change in university.”

He aimed another kick at the foliage to express his feelings.

His mum turned a blind eye and decided to keep pressing. “You’ve changed a lot too, Minho. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know you that well anymore.”

It wasn’t an untrue statement, but anger flared within him.

_Maybe if you actually cared about how my problems affect me, not how it affects how others view me, I’d tell you._

Minho picked up the pace himself this time and strode past his parents before he said something he’d regret.

“That’s not true, Minho,” his dad called after him. “We just don’t live together anymore and see you less, that’s all. Obviously, you’ll mature as an adult.”

Minho refused to speak to either of his parents even after they arrived back at home. They exchanged questioning glances behind him, wondering why it bothered their son so much.

He began to make his way to the stairs when he heard his mum’s slippers padding on the wooden floor behind him.

“Minho, I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said. He didn’t turn around to see her expression because he knew it would disgust him. “It’s Christmas, so try and cheer up. Come down for dinner, we’ll open presents after.”

God, he hated his parents so much right now. He didn’t want dinner nor their damn presents. Minho was a shitty child. He didn’t deserve the love his parents gave him, even if it was twisted and conditional.

“OK,” he said monotonously and continued up the stairs to his room.

The sheets were stripped bare, but Minho still flopped onto the mattress, covering his eyes with his forearm. He’d been forced to delay his mental breakdown but now the schedule was back on.

It was the time to think through exactly what happened last night, try and piece the hazy images together. He groaned. There more than a few revelations to take in.

The first one was blatant. He was now able to admit his drunk hook-ups weren’t just mistakes. There was certainly a degree of attraction involved. So he could be attracted to men too. After Minho had turned his worldview upside down with this revelation, Jisung had moulded it into something easier to accept for Minho.

For that, he was immensely grateful.

The second was more terrifying to admit. But it wasn’t a bad thing. Not at all.

_I like Han Jisung._

“I like Han Jisung,” mumbled Minho dryly, testing out how the words felt on his lips. It was easy to say now. “I like Han Jisung.” He enjoyed how it sounded even if it terrified him.

The third revelation was the worst. Minho had gone and fucked up (he wasn’t surprised anymore at this point) and Jisung was gone. He had done the worst thing possible, taken Jisung’s patience and kindness then threw it back in his face.

The scummy feeling of being gritty around the edges returned full force. Minho didn’t want to think about it but he had to recognise what he’d done. Yes, he was drunk, emotional, and overwhelmed. They were excuses one could use to lessen the severity of his actions. But the fact remained that Minho had touched Jisung without his consent, using their friendship to his advantage and ignored Jisung when he asked Minho to stop.

Fuck, he’d practically sexually assaulted his best friend. Minho really did not know what would have happened had he not froze up at that moment. He didn’t trust his himself enough to say he would have come to his senses and done the right thing. Part of him wanted to leave the house and lay in the snow till he froze to death. But that wouldn’t solve anything. It would just be running away again.

He felt awful. But he didn’t want to sit around, pitying himself, comforting himself. He deserved to feel bad. Minho wasn’t going to attempt to justify his actions.

He wouldn’t be surprised if the police burst through his door right after this incident. To Minho, Jisung fully had the grounds to report him. If Jisung chose to get Minho expelled, stop him ever becoming a doctor, burned his parent’s tediously crafted reputation to the ground; it was okay. Not for him obviously, but it would be justified. Because Minho deserved it all and worse.

Still, it was perplexing to Minho that no tears would fall. Was he numb or just so morally gone that he felt no remorse for his actions? But the pain still throbbed through his chest every time he thought of Jisung. It was stuck inside him, all packed tight.

It was very ironic. The one time, Minho wished to release his emotions and let them batter him, they refused to explode from him uncontrollably.

Now, what was he going to do about it? He’d already exchanged Christmas presents with Jisung and the others, on the day they went to play in the snow. He’d given Jisung a new mic and Jisung had presented Minho with a box of small, random gifts. A few snacks he knew Minho liked and a set of cat-themed stationery.

A gift of any magnitude wasn’t going to make up for it anyway. Minho desperately wanted to see Jisung, but what else could he say besides try to explain himself? That he had never wanted to hurt Jisung or make him uncomfortable.

But why did explaining himself just feel like he was making excuses for his actions?

Minho did ponder why he liked Jisung. Out of convenience because they were housemates? Because Minho latched onto the only person who was nice to him? Because Jisung was essentially Minho’s emotional crutch? He didn’t think his heart was that simple. If that line of reasoning was true, he would have long fallen for his housemates or any of the people on his course.

No, now he considered it, it was more complex than that. They just got along very well and very comfortably. The two of them shared a chemistry to the point they were often in their own little world. When he and Jisung went out, people would ask if they’d known each other for a long time. They acted like old friends.

At least, Minho hoped his feelings weren’t fucking him over again. Jisung filled an empty part of Minho that he’d left neglected for too long.

Focus, Minho.

The rosy blissful lovey-dovey lens vanished and the ugliness of reality hit.

The alarm on his phone pushed back his internal struggles to later. It was time to go downstairs and endure time with his parents.

However, they were the ones that gave Minho an idea as they brought up all his friends and started gossiping about them and how they turned out. He desperately needed advice, or someone to hear him out, anything.

_Chan._

He could go and try to get advice from Chan. Minho knew Chan well _and_ Chan was Jisung’s best friend. For now, his jumbled brain couldn’t think of anything else remotely helpful. A tangible thought was barely anywhere to be found.

Tomorrow, he would see Chan. Resolve gripped him and he felt a modicum better. Minho was trying his best. He would do his best to make it up and fix things. Whatever happened to him was okay and if Jisung hated him forever…

His chest squeezed.

Well, Minho was no stranger to moping and pining and taking the shittiest things life had to offer him.

He just wanted Jisung to be okay. Then everything could start being okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we have hit the peak angst
> 
> you ever want to do nothing and cry but you have to go out and do things? yeah, that's minho.


	14. There's Nothing That Can Cure Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see tw at the bottom if you know you are triggered by anything!!

> It was only a door. Minho had knocked on many doors before. Why was the door so intimidating today?
> 
> Minho shifted from side to side outside Chan’s house. The doorbell was right in front of him but Minho was still unable to reach out a finger to press it, dizzy with nerves.
> 
> This morning, he’d told his parents he was heading out to see his friends. They’d looked disgruntled but hadn’t said much about it.
> 
> “Again?” his mum had said. “We were going to see your aunt’s family for lunch.”
> 
> “I can see them some other time,” Minho responded dully.
> 
> There was only so much family time Minho could take. It wasn’t even a formal family gathering or anything so he had no idea why they were so miffed.
> 
> He lifted his hand to the doorbell hesitantly, but before he could ring it, the door swung open by itself. His breath hitched.
> 
> “Changbin’s here!” Chan caught sight of Minho, then made an attempt to shut the door. The action made Minho’s insides shrivel. _So he knows._ “Oh, it’s you.”
> 
> It was not a welcoming greeting.
> 
> Even so, Minho wedged a foot between the door before Chan could close it and winced.
> 
> “Hey Chan, I-” began Minho, but Chan’s glare was so terribly cold he faltered. Chan wasn’t much taller than him but he seemed to tower over Minho in this moment. Minho hastily retracted his foot from the door. Thankfully Chan didn’t slam it in his face.
> 
> “Why are you here?”
> 
> “I-I guess you know what happened and I just totally messed up and-”
> 
> “Yeah, you did.” Chan at Minho like he was something disgusting on the bottom of his shoe. “If you were going to ask me what to do, my advice is _leave Jisung alone._ Don’t fucking go near him. He doesn’t want to see you.”
> 
> “I just want to try and do something to make up for it,” stuttered Minho hurriedly. “I’m really really sorry about it.”
> 
> “Don’t apologise to me, it’s meaningless,” said Chan exasperatedly. Minho didn’t miss the way Chan’s shoulders squared and his feet shifted wider apart. A fighting stance. “You just want to appease your guilty conscience.”
> 
> Minho bit his lip despondently. Was that really it? Sure, he felt horribly guilty but wasn’t trying to do something better than doing nothing at all? For both him and Jisung?
> 
> “We’ve known each other a long time,” Chan said gruffly, “All I can say is just leave him alone. There’s really nothing else you can do about it. If he wants to talk to you, he will. Not that I see why he’d ever want to.”
> 
> That stung. All hopes now dashed, Minho’s bravado trickled out from him like air whooshing out a punctured balloon.
> 
> “I understand,” said Minho slowly. He dug the toe of his boots into the porch, tracing circles. “Could you just pass one message on for me, please?”
> 
> Chan stared expectantly, eyes narrowed with derision.
> 
> “Whatever Jisung decides, I’ll respect his decision. But please let him know I really am sorry.” Then Minho left Chan’s doorstep slowly, like weights were attached to his legs.
> 
> Some things needed time. This was one of them. He would have no choice but to wait and see what Jisung decided on.
> 
> At least he had tried to apologise, he reassured himself. It _was_ for Jisung, not himself, no matter what Chan insisted. So this was how it felt making the biggest mistake of his life.
> 
> He kept walking, dragging his feet, eyes pinned to the floor. Someone in a padded winter coat was walking up the road, a cap pulled low over their face
> 
> They roughly pushed past Minho, who lost his footing and tripped over, knees scraping the asphalt. He picked himself up and dusted his knees off. The skin had been scraped off his hands in a few places.
> 
> Minho grit his teeth from the stinging and looked back to see who it was. They should at least apologise for knocking him to the ground. He could have let it go, Minho supposed, but the shit mood he was in prevented that.
> 
> “Hey, watch where you’re going!” he scowled. There was a derisive snort that only made a very nasty hot spike of anger rear up in Minho.
> 
> “Oops,” came the voice of Changbin, looking unfazed. His jaw was clenched and a nasty glimmer was in his eyes. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
> 
> It didn’t take a genius to work out that it was totally intentional that Minho had been knocked flying. He wasn’t sure whether to stand his ground or start grovelling at Changbin’s feet. The hatred in Changbin’s eyes made the will to fight seep away pretty quickly.
> 
> Minho put up both hands in an attempt to apologise then Changbin took one fast step towards him.
> 
> Pain exploded across Minho’s face as Changbin’s fist collided hard against his nose. His knees shook from the blow and Minho tottered backwards. He managed not to lose his balance and remained standing.
> 
> The physical pain made him feel better. He’d needed this. For people to treat him like he was a piece of trash. To let him bathe in his guilt and dig it into him that Minho was a terrible, terrible person. It was contradictive to his actions but it felt like atonement. An appropriate punishment.
> 
> It was only right for Minho to hurt and feel pain right?
> 
> “That was an accident,” said Changbin, “So was this – this – and _this_.”
> 
> Minho’s vision went white as he felt knuckles sink into his face several times in quick succession.
> 
> This time, the impact sent Minho hurtling to the ground and he stumbled, in so much pain he almost couldn’t feel it. Black spots crowded his vision and he could just make out Changbin turning away through his swelling eyes.
> 
> “Stay the fuck away from Jisung, you fucking son of a bitch.”
> 
> God did he deserve it. It also felt like Changbin had set his face on fire. His eyes were watering with pain. Minho gingerly patted his face with shaky fingers. There didn’t seem to be any broken skin.
> 
> He swallowed and tasted iron in his mouth. There was something warm running down his lip. Minho tried to wipe his mouth and came away with red all over his hands.
> 
> A nosebleed. He tried to wipe his nose then nearly screamed out loud as jarring white hot pain erupted. It was the feeling of moving something he shouldn’t.
> 
> Minho pushed himself off the floor. It was only his face that was in bad condition. He forgot to account for his jelly legs and almost collapsed down again. 
> 
> Déjà vu hit him. This was the pain of two years ago, wasn’t it? It was interesting how the universe had made things come full circle.
> 
> _Regret and guilt set like concrete in his veins. The blood dropped from his chin to the floor._
> 
> Drip. Drip. Drip.
> 
> _He made his way numbly home, a trail of blood behind him, face painted scarlet. Only when his mother screamed at the sight of him did he realise his nose was broken._
> 
> *
> 
> Chan stared out the window and the grooves of a frown settled on his face. This in turn made Jisung frown and he cleared his throat meaningfully.
> 
> “Changbin’s here now,” said Chan grimly. He took a step back and there was a crunching noise as he crushed an empty bag of crisps under his socks. The packet was thrown onto the desk, which was already piled high with empty wrappers.
> 
> “Who was it earlier then?” asked Jisung. It could have been anyone, the neighbours, the postman or someone else.
> 
> Chan pursed his lips, reluctant to talk. This had the opposite of the desired effect and made it all the more obvious.
> 
> “Minho came here?” Jisung said disbelievingly. There was no way he could have possibly known Jisung was here. Had he come to see Chan? He got up from the chair at Chan’s desk and moved to join Chan at the window.
> 
> “Maybe you shouldn’t look,” Chan began suggesting but this only spurred Jisung to jostle Chan to the side so he could see for himself what on the street was making Chan frown like that.
> 
> Yes, maybe something monumentally fucked up had happened and Jisung was having a hard time dealing with it. But beyond that, he couldn’t stand being treated like a delicate creature who needed to be wrapped in cotton wool and sheltered away.
> 
> “What the fuck!” Jisung exclaimed. He had the wild urge to run downstairs and instinctively shifted towards the door, which Chan abruptly shut.
> 
> Minho was hunched on the ground, cupping a hand under his nose which was doing a really bad job of catching all the blood that was pooling on the pavement. He looked rather dazed and worst of all, his nose was various shades of red and purple, all swollen and bent off-centre. Jisung watched Changbin swagger into Chan’s front garden and put two and two together. It looked like Changbin decided to try and let off some steam and tried to resolve things with his fists.
> 
> The doorbell rang and the two of them flew downstairs and as soon as Jisung saw Changbin standing there with a self-satisfied expression and reddening knuckles, he kneed him in the stomach.
> 
> “What did you do?” he hissed at him, aghast. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
> 
> Changbin had doubled over with a groan, although Jisung doubted he had the power to injure Changbin.
> 
> “Your knee is so bony, my god,” whimpered Changbin as Chan ushered the both of them inside and shut the door, preventing the whole neighbourhood watching them.
> 
> “Minho’s a dick,” said Chan to Jisung but then he turned to Changbin. “But bro what the fuck, that was completely unnecessary.”
> 
> “I’m sorry,” said Changbin, but he failed to sound sincere. “I just saw him and I lost my head.”
> 
> “Well, it’s none of your business!” exploded Jisung. “This is between him and me! Why would you go and get yourself involved? I don’t need anyone to defend me. It only makes me feel like I’m pathetic!”
> 
> “Jisung, you’re not pathetic, never say that again,” snarled Changbin immediately. “Look, I really didn’t mean to step in. I was just so pissed off seeing his face knowing what he did to you!”
> 
> “Well, have you ever thought about how horrible that makes me look?” cried Jisung. “You might as well tell him I went crying to my friends about it and told them to beat him up! You’re making me feel like a dickhead for something I didn’t even do!”
> 
> Jisung saw the twin looks of shock on their faces and stomped up the stairs, not waiting for a reply. There wasn’t really anywhere he could go though. It was Chan’s house, after all. He settled for locking himself in the toilet, guiltily hoping no one else needed to use it. 
> 
> Jisung didn’t dare voice it to his friends, especially after what had just happened, but he really wanted to check if Minho was okay. However, him wanting to help Minho didn’t mean he actually _would_. There was a huge difference in thinking about it and being able to put it in action.
> 
> It didn’t mean Jisung had forgiven Minho for everything and had let go of it all. But Chan and Changbin would undoubtedly break out into a bout of protests if he mentioned it. As the youngest between them, they sure liked acting as his overprotective older brothers.
> 
> “You want to help him? He doesn’t deserve your kindness.” He could just see them starting up again.
> 
> After some of the most unrefreshing sleep in his life that night, as soon as he heard Minho’s parents get up, Jisung had sneaked into Minho’s room and fetched his suitcase.
> 
> Minho had still been snoring away, none the wiser on his bed. Jisung didn’t really remember how he’d looked because even a glance had been too painful at the time. Then he put on a brave face and composed himself and told Minho’s parents his grandma had been taken to hospital. They didn’t need to know his grandma had passed away when he was fifteen. It was probably better than saying that their son tried to shove his hands down Jisung’s pants in a fit of drunken madness.
> 
> If his voice trembled a little, it only helped convince Minho’s parents there was an emergency and they happily let him go, even offering to drive him there. He politely declined and instead stepped out into the thick snow and called Chan, asked him to pick Jisung up.
> 
> “Jisung, are you okay?” Chan’s warm question finally broke him and he burst into a flood of tears over the call.
> 
> That was how Chan found Jisung, sniffling a few houses away from Minho’s, drenched to the bone in the snow that was falling lightly.
> 
> “Jisung, what’s happening?”
> 
> Once they were in the car, Jisung told Chan the basics. Minho had kissed Jisung and tried to get it on with him, going too far for Jisung to be comfortable. And then some. He suddenly felt bad after saying it. Was he outing Minho to his friends? But he couldn’t keep this to himself either, no way.
> 
> _Sorry._
> 
> “I’m going to shred the meat off his bones,” said Changbin remorselessly after Jisung burbled out the story, interrupting himself every few minutes with a sniffle. “I’m gonna _end_ him.”
> 
> Chan didn’t reply, but the muscle jumping in his tightly clenched jaw was an indication of agreement.
> 
> “What Minho did wasn’t cool,” Chan then said. “Who knows how far it could have gone.” Changbin made a disparaging sound of disgust.
> 
> “No, that’s not it,” protested Jisung wearily, “I know Minho wouldn’t have hurt me intentionally…he was just didn’t realise I wasn’t into it and he responded slower than normal.”
> 
> Chan and Changbin both gave him an intense look that could be easily read as ‘how can you even say that?’.
> 
> “You don’t need to make excuses for him,” Chan shook his head. “You don’t have to try and explain and rationalise his actions. If you feel bad about it, it’s totally valid. It doesn’t matter what Minho was thinking, what matters is how you felt about what he did.”
> 
> “Exactly. You don’t have to pretend, Sungie,” Changbin urged. “It’s obviously affecting you…bro, you literally left his house and called us while crying.”
> 
> Jisung let out a heavy sigh. He _was_ upset deep down. It was still a raw fucking wound. But it didn’t mean Jisung was going to cry and sniffle about it nonstop for the next twenty-four hours. Now he’d gotten over the initial shock, the next stage was sinking deep into thought and thinking everything over, examining all the details.
> 
> “I get to decide how I feel about the situation. No matter what it sounds like, I was the one there and I understand the context and what happened the most. I also know Minho the best out of you guys.” Jisung let out a yawn. “So don’t worry too much, guys. It sounds worse than it really is.”
> 
> Chan parked the car very slowly into the driveway, skills a bit rusty. Well, it was slippery in the snow. Jisung still hadn’t got his licence so he could hardly comment.
> 
> It had just reached six o’clock in the morning and it was basically still night time. Jisung plodded in the snow to the boot to fetch his suitcase, only to see Changbin was already lifting it out of the car.
> 
> Jisung never usually hugged Changbin or showed any kind of physical affection. They had that kind of teasing friendship. Even so, Jisung was very thankful. He had friends who would wake up and sneak out their houses just to help him.
> 
> When Changbin set his carrier down on the doorstep, Jisung enveloped him in a tight hug.
> 
> “Hey, honestly…really…um…thanks a lot,” Jisung mumbled. “I don’t say it lot but I love you, bro.”
> 
> “Get off me!” Changbin squirmed like a worm in his grasp but when Jisung released him, he was faintly pink. “You too, you know.”
> 
> They stood there in the doorway, feeling more and more embarrassed until Chan beckoned them into his house, repeatedly jabbing a finger at his lips. The three of them stealthily tiptoed up the stairs, avoiding any creaks in the floorboards.
> 
> Chan’s room was pretty messy, piles of clothes jumbled on the floor. He hastily kicked them to the corners.
> 
> “You think we can all fit in your bed?” said Changbin. “Jisung’s pretty scrawny.”
> 
> “Screw you,” muttered Jisung. “Not my fault you and Chan have shoulders wider than mountains. We’re a bunch of midgets anyway,”
> 
> “I can take the floor-” Chan began.
> 
> “Shut up, this is your room!” Jisung insisted. “We’re not kicking you out your own bed. Don’t you have sleeping bags or futons or something?”
> 
> “Oh yeah,” said Chan. “That’s actually a good idea. But I can’t go rummaging in the garage for them now.”
> 
> “For fuck’s sake,” Changbin growled. “Let’s just squish up together.”
> 
> The three of them barely just fit into Chan’s double bed but once cuddled up and snugly pressed together, it kind of worked.
> 
> “Thanks for letting me stay, Channie,” whispered Jisung. “Love you. And Changbin-”
> 
> “You don’t need to say it again,” whispered back Changbin gruffly. “We have your back too, always.”
> 
> “This is so cute,” wiggled Chan happily. “Good night guys. Or should I say good morning?”
> 
> Jisung felt their breathing even out beside him and he spent a few more minutes, warm and cosy in the middle of them, then passed out in exhaustion.
> 
> *
> 
> Now Jisung had distanced himself from Minho and found the time to mull it over, it seemed Chan and Changbin were still more upset about the situation than he was. They were acting like Minho had violated him.
> 
> Firstly, they were both drinking. While Minho was definitely far drunker than Jisung was, it meant neither of them were able to consent. This contradicted the fact that drunk hook-ups weren’t abnormal in university either, Jisung had done it himself too. It wasn’t as if Jisung had never kissed someone when drunk and got too intimate for comfort. It was hard to establish boundaries when you were both inebriated.
> 
> It started to become clear to Jisung that Minho forcibly touching him wasn’t what upset him most because he still wholeheartedly had faith in Minho. He simply couldn’t bring himself to believe Minho was a bad person. Admittedly, he was pretty misguided in certain topics and had his fair share of issues but overall had a good interior.
> 
> If Jisung knew Minho really wholeheartedly liked him, then he would have gone along with Minho. The initial kiss came out of nowhere and Jisung enjoyed it, was overjoyed even. But cold water was poured over him when it struck him, amidst the electrifying sensation of Minho’s lips against his, that Minho’s feelings weren’t real. Jisung wouldn’t go along it, only for Minho to regret it in the morning and make things awkward between them, potentially ending their friendship.
> 
> He knew why Minho kissed him and it wasn’t because he _liked_ Jisung. It was because Jisung was convenient, because he was right there. Jisung both wanted and didn’t want to see Minho because he was waiting around for the inevitable rejection. Then there were more what-ifs. What if sober Minho still couldn’t accept himself?
> 
> Minho had come to seek Chan out, god knows why, but he trying to do something. Jisung just didn’t want to face him for as long as he could hold it off. He was certain that he would lose his composure and burst into tears if he so much as looked Minho in the eye.
> 
> _Fuck you_ , he wanted to say to him. Don’t kiss me and touch me if-if it means absolutely nothing.
> 
> Even before on campus, the way Minho looked at him was a little odd, just questionable enough for Jisung to wonder if perhaps, _maybe_ he wasn’t the only one who felt that pull.
> 
> Minho had been like a whole new person when Jisung had been at his house. Holding his hand like it was nothing in the snow, just acting so touchy and open around him. Letting Jisung see his vulnerable side…And the way he had been watching Jisung.
> 
> His gaze had been so heavy Jisung hadn’t even needed to look at him to feel his hairs on the back of his neck tingling. Minho had stared at Jisung like he was bewitched, entranced…or had it just been a trick of the light, the shadows casting meaning to things that had never been there.
> 
> He had been so close to blurting it out. 
> 
> “Are you sure you’ve thought everything through?”
> 
> Minho thankfully hadn’t caught on but what Jisung had been saying was something along the lines of ‘Are you sure you’re straight when you can look at me like that?’, like he meant something more than a friend. He didn’t dare assume otherwise. Even when Minho had pushed him down and leant in, Jisung couldn’t believe it.
> 
> It was not only safe at Chan’s place but fun too, spending time with his siblings and family and seeing the rest of his friends, Minho once again excluded. Hyunjin and Jeongin had come around too and expressed simultaneous disappointment and disgust at Minho when Jisung told them what happened, already growing sick of repeating things over and over. After the Hyunjin had laughed pityingly.
> 
> “So Minho was just repressing everything all along,” commented Hyunjin snidely. “And taking it out on me.”
> 
> Jisung had tried to explain like he had before to Chan and Changbin that it wasn’t like that, it wasn’t the way everyone kept making it out to be but it didn’t work. No one (although he suspected Chan and Changbin) knew that Jisung was head over heels for Minho because he didn’t really want to tell anyone. It only made him feel worse. But not adding this rather relevant piece of information did make Minho’s actions sound far worse.
> 
> It made Jisung wonder if this was how it had been between Hyunjin and Minho. Maybe they could have understood each other fully if they could’ve have seen into each other’s minds and read their rawest innermost thoughts. It changed things so massively to be able to see something from the other’s perspective, to truly walk a mile in their shoes.
> 
> The fragile friendship Jisung helped Minho build instantly dissolved, all bridges broken. Felix, as Chan’s unofficial younger brother, had come around for Boxing Day celebrations (Chan’s family were _very_ passionate about the Christmas season). The resident angel Felix had cursed out loud, much to the shock of Chan’s little siblings in the room. Jisung had tried to protest, defend Minho as usual but everyone was very quick to turn around on Minho and rebrand him as a villain. That Jisung didn’t need to defend him.
> 
> Why was Jisung defending Minho? Because he loved that stupid bastard. Who enjoyed hearing their friends constantly badmouthing the guy they were losing their mind over?
> 
> Their stance on Minho slowly came to affect Jisung too though. Minho never cared that much about Jisung. Minho was self-obsessed and hypocritical. Minho just did what he wanted without bothering about the consequences. Minho was a piece of shit. Jisung shouldn’t have to see that sick bastard anymore.
> 
> Maybe Minho was uncomfortable to be around. Perhaps Jisung didn’t want to see Minho because the tension between them would crush down unbearably on his shoulders. Maybe he didn’t know Minho as well as he thought he did. Hyunjin knew better, didn’t he? Had Jisung just imagined that Minho treated him differently, more special than anyone else because he’d been viewing Minho through rose-tinted lenses?
> 
> It was time to pluck off those glasses and throw them aside. The others could be right. Was Jisung trying to protect Minho deep down because he couldn’t accept the fact that just maybe the Minho he’d come to love was a bad person? That Jisung had made a grave error of judgement. He thought he knew who was good and who was bad. Everyone thought that Minho was a bad person. So surely, Jisung must be in the wrong.
> 
> It was aligned with Jisung’s own ulterior motives, to never have to confront Minho about what happened. To not have to see Minho and just feel so crushed and hurt. He spent many days thinking it through, randomly tearing up as he sifted through the memories they had made together.
> 
> Chan and Changbin were eager for Jisung to cut Minho out his life too. Toxic people shouldn’t stay in your life.
> 
> Jisung’s life had been fine before without Minho in it. It would just go back to how it was in the past, where life was uncomplicated and not full of drama. The idea of not seeing Minho still hurt like something rotten though. Jisung would miss Minho for sure but he would get over it.
> 
> Now with input from his friends, Jisung felt more certain of it. The person he missed didn’t exist. He was someone Jisung moulded to fit his fantasy of Minho the good person.
> 
> With their support, Jisung reached out to Minho for the first time in days and texted him a short message.
> 
> _I’m going to move out after the holidays. Hope you understand._
> 
> _Sent: 03:25am_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw physical violence  
> starts from "Minho put up both hands in an attempt to apologise then Changbin took one fast step towards him."  
> ends at "Only when his mother screamed at the sight of him did he realise his nose was broken."  
> \- in other words Changbin and Minho fight
> 
> Hi everyone, i hope you guys are doing well :)  
> i have probably overthought this whole chapter and it went through some heavy editing. I'm just really trying to say i don't condone assault in anyway. i just really hope that got across, cos yeah, this is a serious topic and i don't want to offend people or cause misunderstandings.
> 
> In no way am I suggesting ALL situations are like this and that everything can be explained in such a way because often people commit horrible crimes knowing it is completely wrong to do so and have no justification for it. 
> 
> In this particular story, things are just messy and complicated and perspective is large theme here.
> 
> thank you for reading up to here, i appreciate all the feedback it never fails to make me grin cheesily at my phone,  
> besthonestliar x


	15. Wanting to Hide Out From The Sun and Run

The snow sprayed out beneath him in a flurry of white. Seungmin pulled his skis parallel to each other and skidded to a stop at the bottom of the slope.

Pushing his goggles upwards over his windswept hair, he sucked in a great lungful of mountain air, admiring the scenery of endless snow-capped peaks. He was done for the day.

After depositing his stuff at the ski equipment storage, Seungmin trudged to his family’s chalet, feeling the snow crunch beneath his boots. He dusted himself off in the doorway and took off all his layers of clothing meticulously, hanging them up to dry. Then he flopped onto the sofa by the fireplace and video called Jeongin. Unsurprisingly, Hyunjin was with him and they filled him in on the current events back in Korea.

Slowly, Seungmin’s toothy smile slid into a deep frown as he listened. _Hm._ So that was what happened?

Well, he would be back home at the end of the week before the New Year. Seungmin would get to the bottom of his friend’s problems soon enough – he had always been a meddler and now there were some problems he couldn’t possibly ignore. But for now, hot chocolate was calling his name.

*

On the 29th of December, Seungmin’s plane touched down in Korea. On the same day, unaware and moping, Jisung was holed up in Chan’s house, with no idea of the storm about to hit him.

“Seungmin, you’ve tanned!” exclaimed Jisung in surprise, curled up on the sofa with Chan and Changbin, in the middle of a movie. “In winter!”

There were also faint tan lines around Seungmin’s eyes, reminiscent of ski goggles. Jisung decided it was best not to mention it. He wasn’t in the mood to tease anyway as all his thoughts kept drifting back to Minho.

“It wasn’t that cold in Italy,” replied Seungmin, looking as if he was resisting the urge to do something about the crisp crumbs scattered on the carpet. “The sunlight reflects off the snow so it was like being somewhere extremely sunny.” Jisung rolled his eyes at this. Typical Seungmin-speak.

Seungmin joined them on the sofa till the end of the movie in their blanket huddle. Jisung couldn’t focus. He couldn’t stop replaying the sight of Minho kneeling on the side of the road, cradling his nose, his scarlet blood striking a vivid contrast on the snow. Or the pressure of Minho’s lips on his, cool and wanting.

Seungmin wasn’t watching the screen either. He couldn’t help but let his gaze keep sliding to Jisung, thinking over what Hyunjin and Jeongin had told him via video call.

The film ended and that was when Seungmin cornered Jisung, demanding to know everything that had happened. Jisung didn’t seem to want to tell him, he looked pretty reluctant.

“How d’you find out?”

“Hyunjin told me.”

“Figures,” mumbled Jisung, “That little snitch.”

Jisung hadn’t wanted more people to know, but Hyunjin probably had considered it unfair to only keep Seungmin out the loop. That, or Hyunjin just wanted to be able to gossip about it. Jisung trusted his friends to keep it within their circle but it really was out of his hands now.

Seungmin levelled him with a flat stare.

“He was _worried_ about you, Jisung.”

Jisung let Seungmin coax the story out of him, albeit stubbornly, throwing biting remarks around now and then.

“You’re going to move out?” said Seungmin incredulously when Jisung caught him up to what he’d been doing the past few days – eating all of Chan’s snacks and trying not to cry.

“I am,” said Jisung but it sounded more like he was trying to persuade himself than Seungmin. “I don’t want to see him again.”

“Why would you do that?” repeated Seungmin in confusion. “Wouldn’t it be better to talk things out together?”

“I think it’s valid,” commented Changbin, where he was curled lazily on the other sofa.

“It’s for the best too,” Chan joined in, “You can’t be uncomfortable in your own home.”

“It might not be a good idea to meet up anyway now.”

“Of course you think that…you literally beat him up,” muttered Jisung lowly, not loud enough for Changbin to hear. Unfortunately, Seungmin also heard every word crystal clear.

“What do you mean Changbin beat him up?” said Seungmin in a tone that could freeze water. “Were you guys just going to pretend to me this never happened? Hyunjin didn’t tell me about _that_.”

“Well you see-”

The tension was heavily disrupted by Chan’s sister coming in and telling them lunch would be ready soon.

“Thanks for telling us!” Chan called as she left the living room. He at least had the decency to look sheepish. “Minho came yesterday and to talk to me. I told him Jisung didn’t want to see him and then Changbin ran into him and basically lost his temper.”

Changbin didn’t look ashamed. The left corner of his lips quirked up in a smug way that did not sit right with Seungmin at all.

“And what does Jisung think of this…?”

Jisung ducked his head. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it, everything about his body language saying ‘I don’t want to be part of this conversation’. Seungmin decided to let it go. For now.

“What did you do to him?” Seungmin’s voice was a sharp line, cutting straight into Changbin. “You do know that’s literally assault? Was he fighting back? Did he attack you in any way?”

“Hey now,” said Changbin defensively. “I didn’t hurt him seriously. I just punched him a few times.”

Seungmin waited for Chan to say something. It wasn’t like Chan to condone violence in any shape or form. Changbin also wasn’t someone that was easily angered but when he was, it was unbearable to deal with.

Chan pursed his lips but he didn’t admonish Changbin.

“Yeah yeah,” Changbin raised his hands in a shrug. “It was my bad. But I can’t take it back now the damage is done. There’s nothing I can do now.”

The injustice of it all was infuriating Seungmin. And there was nothing that pissed him off more than injustice. It was the whole reason he’d decided to study Law.

Why were they being so nonchalant about this? Seungmin leapt off the couch, his back ramrod straight. He upset the near-empty bowl of popcorn in his haste, scattering un-popped kernels onto the rug.

“Can you even hear yourselves speak?” he said tersely. “You’re all so focused on Jisung’s side of the story that you’re forgetting common sense!”

“Including you, Jisung.” Jisung jumped as Seungmin rounded on him, looking like a dear caught in headlights.

“How on earth is moving out the right choice? Why is everything Minho’s fault? You weren’t the only one who was drunk. But he’s in the wrong?”

“I know that, I really do,” replied Jisung quickly, forehead creasing. “But-”

“But what?” Seungmin cut him off. He didn’t want to hear it right now, he was too annoyed, that stabbing spike of anger you got when you felt the utter unfairness of the situation. “Jisung, you’re my friend but this…this isn’t cool.”

Then he turned to Changbin, who was sitting in stunned silence.

“How in any circumstances is it _ever_ okay to hurt someone? Why would you escalate the conflict? It doesn’t help Jisung or Minho. It’s completely selfish. And there’s _nothing you can do now_? You should have taken him to the hospital, paid his medical fee and visited him and apologised!”

Then Seungmin glared fiercely at Chan. Chan bit his lip nervously.

“I don’t know why you haven’t said anything. Someone has to say something so that’s why I’m telling you guys. You need to realise what you’re doing now is so messed up and it’s _unfair_.” He let out a heated sigh. “I don’t even want to look at your faces right now. Maybe we can talk when you see through the bullshit that’s blocking your vision.”

Without a second glance, Seungmin stomped over to the door, slipping his shoes back on.

There was an extremely awkward moment as Chan’s sister came in again, obviously sensing the tension in the room.

“Um…mum told me to come and tell you again that lunch is ready,” she mumbled.

The only answer she got was the slam of the front door as Seungmin saw himself out.

*

Minho’s grip tightened around his phone when he saw the notification in the morning. Jisung had reached out to Minho. Even as he tried to force it down, hope bloomed unbidden within him. His heart was rattling in the confines of his chest as he went to read the message.

Then he nearly dropped his phone. He’d gotten his hopes up for nothing. Of course Jisung would want to move out. It was totally understandable. It still felt like Changbin had beat him up all over again though.

The prospect of never seeing Jisung again was finally enough to unleash the waterworks and Minho blinked, feeling hot tears run down his face. His bruised eyes ached a little as he swept fingers along the corners of his eyes.

Minho wanted to try and see Jisung one last time. They had to meet in person at least once more, surely? Could Jisung really just cut Minho off like that? Without turning back. Minho had hoped desperately Jisung valued him more than that.

The rays of sunshine shone outside as it rained inside Minho’s room, storm clouds resting on his eyelids. The tears trickled to a stop and left Minho in a hiccupping sniffy state.

He wanted to see Jisung. To see his face one more time and commit each detail to memory.

Minho snorted through his tears then winced as pain raced through his nose. Now his nose was even more stuffed up.

It wasn’t that dramatic. He’d probably see Jisung on campus at some point and end up stalking him on social media when he got inevitably drunk and cried in his room.

“Mum, I’m going to go on a walk,” he said, getting all kit up in winter gear.

“Are you sure?” she said with uncertainty. “People might see your face and start talking. And will you be safe?”

Minho wiggled the mask in his hand.

“There,” he said as he put it on. “Now no one can see my busted face.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, honey.”

_What did you mean then?_

He left that as a thought. His parents thought someone had mugged him. That was what Minho had told them, to save himself the trouble and beat him up when they realised he had now wallet. It was a pretty far-fetched tale but Minho fudged enough details to make it believable.

“I’ll be fine,” He waved off her concerned gaze. “I won’t go to the dodgy part of town this time.”

Minho spent a few minutes staring at the door. Then he held his breath and pushed the doorbell.

No, it wasn’t Chan’s place again. Or Jisung’s. Minho was trying his best at his ‘I’m not going to be a coward’ thing, but he had yet to work up the nerve to go back to Chan’s house when it had been very clearly etched into his body that his presence was unwanted.

The door scraped open and Minho just stared blankly at the man in front of him. He was both tall and handsome, an intimidating combination.

“Hello, how can I help you?” said the man suspiciously, eyes scanning Minho’s mask and hat which was obscuring his identity. “We don’t take door-to-door sales, there’s a sign here.”

“Hi Jeonghan-shi,” said Minho, sliding his mask off. “It’s me, Minho.”

“Oh, I guess you’re here to see…?” Jeonghan narrowed his eyes at Minho. “You’re not gonna beg for Jeongyeon to take you back or something?”

“Of course not,” said Minho immediately.

“Not sure I should feel offended by that on her behalf,” hummed Jeonghan thoughtfully.

“I’m just here to talk and clear some things up.” Minho hoped that was enough information. It seemed to be acceptable and Jeonghan threw his head back.

“Hey panini-head, your ex is here to see you!” hollered Jeonghan in the direction of the stairs. He turned to Minho. “Come in then.”

Jeongyeon trotted down the stairs, almond-shaped eyes wide as she looked at Minho like she’d seen a ghost. Her hair was shorter now, barely brushing her shoulders. Interestingly, she was wearing a matching onesie like Jeonghan.

“Oppa, I thought you were joking…” She looked confusedly at Minho. It had been nearly a year since they’d talked, after all.

“Says he’s here to talk. Not to get back with your ugly ass.”

“Great,” said Jeongyeon, rolling her eyes at her brother. Tactfully, Jeonghan left the scene.

“Why are you here after a literal year of dead silence?”

“I’m seriously just here to talk. If you’re willing to hear me out.”

Jeongyeon sighed.

“Well I have to admit I’m curious. You can come upstairs. Just take your shoes off first.”

“Thanks,” Minho blurted. The last time he saw Jeongyeon, she had been crying. The other times before that had mostly been arguing. It was weird to see her treat him without anger or disappointment.

Minho followed Jeongyeon up the stairs to her bedroom. A burst of memories followed. It was also weird as fuck for Minho to see the inside of her bedroom again.

It was the same as it’d always been, succulents dotted across the top shelf, green and brown accents in the room. There were even still photos of him and Jeongyeon on the corkboard on wall.

But it was also where he had lost his virginity. So the room had stuck solidly in his mind.

“So what did you want to say to me?” Jeongyeon pointedly glanced at the digital clock on the desk. “Not to be rude, but I have to go meet up with my hockey friends for dinner so I hope this doesn’t take too long.”

The atmosphere was more relaxed than Minho had expected. He actually felt very comfortable being here, to his surprise. He settled himself at the desk chair as she sat on the bed cross-legged.

“I feel like we ended things not on the best terms,” he said carefully, “not that I blame you.”

“You can say that again.”

“Well, if this room is the confessional box, you’re the priest and I’m the sinner.”

Minho cleared his throat awkwardly when Jeongyeon didn’t respond, snorting slightly at his metaphor.

“In other words, I just want to clear up all that stuff I was holding in that I never told you.” He laughed nervously. “Actually now I put it that way, it’s more for me than you. Kind of selfish huh…”

Jeongyeon tapped her foot impatiently. “Not something I haven’t seen before.”

Minho guessed he deserved that.

“Well,” he began, unsure of where to start. “I…”

“What happened to your face?” Jeongyeon interrupted. “You look terrible.”

Minho smiled wearily.

“I’ll get to that…it’s related to what I wanted to tell you.”

He began his sorry tale right from the beginning and then reached their second (and final) year together.

The way he acted was simply asshole behaviour. Leaving Jeongyeon to make all the plans for meeting up, not responding to her messages or leaving them on read, just never being as involved in the relationship as he should have.

“It was a really dumb cycle,” he explained. Jeongyeon watched him silently. She hadn’t interrupted him anymore but occasionally she’d nod and her eyebrows would shoot upwards. “I was having a rough time so I was always in a bad mood with you. But then when you asked, I would dismiss you and keep bottling up. Then when you rightfully got mad at me for treating you so badly, all those negative emotions I kept in from bottling everything up got taken out on you. And it kept repeating. So I really apologise for that.”

Jeongyeon heaved a long sigh, tugging a blanket on the bed around herself. Minho had no clue how she was so cold when he was sweating bullets.

“I assumed it was something like that. That’s what I had to assume to move on.” She looked directly into Minho’s eyes. “You know, you made me feel like there was something wrong with me. Like I wasn’t doing enough to be supportive. Or that I was clingy. Or asking for too much.”

Her words were spoken easily, but Minho notices how her grip on the blanket tightened, the fabric wrinkling in her grip. It must have been really hard.

“You really weren’t,” he said with absolute confidence. “You deserved way more than what I gave you. I was just spilling my own negativity onto you.”

“I’m so sorry. I really hope you realise there’s nothing wrong with you. It was all me. Anyone would get tired of how I was acting and stop putting up with it.” He wiped his sweaty hands on his lap discreetly.

“Hey now,” chipped in Jeongyeon, looking irritated. “Don’t put yourself down like that either. You weren’t all that bad. Don’t make it seem like I have terrible taste in men.”

Minho chuckled dryly.

“You might change your mind after this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jeongyeon, I…” Minho saw that his hands were trembling. He took them off the desk and hid his palms in his lap. “I cheated on you.”

Her jaw completely dropped.

“Sorry, you _what_?” she exclaimed. “Here I was just starting to feel bad for you.”

“I told you, you shouldn’t get your hopes up. I’m a shitty guy.” To her credit, she didn’t kick him out at once.

“Who was it though? Anyone we know?”

Minho swallowed. He supposed this was like coming out. Even if he wasn’t going to label it, it was still revealing a part of him that he had battled against.

“It was after that fight. I felt so horrible so I went to a club myself and got drunk. And hooked up with a guy.”

Jeongyeon started spluttering. Minho’s heart rate shot up exponentially.

_She’s not judging you. She’s not judging you. She’s just surprised. Anyone would be._

“I’m only telling you now because it took me pretty much up till now to come to terms with it. That I’m not only attracted to women. There was a lot of denial and self-hatred and stuff.” He let out a bitter laugh. “It’s blowing up in my face right now. I started liking my flatmate and we were really good friends and then he…”

He gulped. He was not about to burst into tears in front of Jeongyeon. It felt so emotionally manipulative. Minho blinked a few times and shifted on the chair.

Jeongyeon clambered off the bed, looking worried.

“You okay?” she said. Minho almost jumped as she put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You may have been a shitty boyfriend and I hated you but I do still care about you. Sometimes I’d think about you and feel bad. You clearly had things going on and I wished I had been enough for you to tell me.”

“It’s not you,” Minho burst out, “I’ve never told this to _anyone._ ”

“Hey, let me speak,” chided Jeongyeon. “Come on, let’s sit on the bed together. You look really stiff in the chair.”

Minho ungracefully got up and joined her on the bed, feeling awkward about being so close.

“I did think that sometimes,” she continued, “But then I’d think, I’m not your therapist. My friends put it into perspective for me. I can’t solve all your problems. But I did wonder if you were still struggling by yourself.”

She thrust a penguin plushie at him.

“I’m guessing you someone helped you with it? Was it the flatmate you like?”

Minho took the plushie and kneaded it with his fingers and nodded.

“You’re the second person. The first was Jisung-”

“Han Jisung?” Jeongyeon’s jaw dropped again. “As in the really loud and annoying Jisung in our class?”

“The very one.”

By the time Minho finished his sob story, his throat was raw from talking. The penguin had been subject to a lot of squeezing. If it could feel pain, it would have been screaming. But it felt good to let someone know.

“So to summarise, I’m the scum of the earth and he’s going to move out so I won’t be seeing him any time soon,” finished Minho, trying to cheer the atmosphere with a little self-deprecating humour. “They all know now so I have no friends and they’re all blacklisting me. It’s what I deserve.”

“Ouch!”

Jeongyeon had leant across the space between them and elbowed him sharply between the ribs.

“Minho, stop being a fucking dumbass!”

Minho coughed as the blow knocked the air from his lungs and gawped at her.

“I would’ve hit you on the face but that wouldn’t have gone well,” Jeongyeon told him, frowning with disapproval. “You don’t deserve being beaten up by that little prick Changbin. Next time I see him, I’m going to knee him straight in the balls.”

“But-”

“No buts.”

“They’re blowing it way out of proportion. They weren’t even there. There’s no reason why other people should be involved.” Then Jeongyeon paused. “I know you like Jisung but it doesn’t sit right with me that Jisung told them all about it.”

“What do you mean?” Minho asked. “I’m telling you about it, aren’t I?”

“You said yourself I’m the second person to know you like guys. Isn’t it out of line for Jisung to let them all know without your permission? It’s clearly a big thing to you if you never told anyone.”

Minho kept hearing Jeongyeon’s words echo over and over as he waved goodbye to her. Somehow it had become a bit of a heart-to-heart and he’d ended up staying way longer than he’d expected. He’d even ended up chatting to Jeonghan-hyung in the kitchen and had been invited for dinner next week. He might’ve stayed even longer if Jeongyeon didn’t have to go out.

It was fascinating how a year’s gap in communication had been repaired so easily. Maybe it had been good timing. Maybe Jeongyeon had been in an amicable mood. Or perhaps time had stepped in and healed their wounds. Maybe Minho had gotten lucky for once.

Minho’s phone pinged. It looked like his mum was still worried about him even though it was only five o’clock.

Only after she had ‘put things in perspective’ as she called it, Minho was having an epiphany. By that, it meant he was starting to feel seriously upset at Jisung. Which had never happened before.

A sense of betrayal was starting to crawl unpleasantly up his spine. Minho kept walking, his footsteps becoming faster and more agitated.

Now he considered it, how much had Jisung told everyone? He could understand Chan or Changbin knowing, as they were his closest friends, even if he hated the idea of it. Minho messaged everyone, asking how Jisung was, but not one person had replied to him.

Delayed-onset fear gripped him tightly and Minho plopped himself down onto the stone wall of someone’s front garden. He’d been so caught up in his guilt and despair over Jisung, so bent on repenting and seeking forgiveness that it had eluded him that they all knew.

Minho ignored the odd glances of passers-by. He knew he must look suspicious, a masked figure perched on a cold stone wall. The streetlights were coming on now, their light blinking into existence one by one.

He pressed his hands to his forehead. Minho could just see it now. They must all be sneering and laughing at him. Hyunjin especially. He had acted like such a homophobe to him yet ironically he’d fallen for a man who didn’t want him. It would give him a good laugh.

His stomach was in knots. Telling Jeongyeon was different. She knew Minho intimately in a way no one else did. She understood him in a way even Jisung didn’t. Jeongyeon had seen Minho decline and hit rock bottom and bore with it till he drove her away. It had been his choice to come clean.

Minho had not chosen for everyone to know. It wasn’t that they would all think he was disgusting – they at least weren’t homophobic. It was more that this was Minho’s secret, his story to share. It wasn’t some tasty gossip to be passed down the grapevine. They didn’t know how much he had struggled with it.

He was also tempted to text Jisung back. A pithy comment like ‘Fuck you, you traitor. Move out and never come back.’ He would have done it as well, if he wasn’t head over heels for Jisung.

Maybe they only knew about the incident, not everything, not the whole conversation. Right?

Minho trusted Jisung with all his heart. He hoped in good faith that no one knew about Joshua or Ten. Jisung wouldn’t tell anyone, Minho believed in him. Jisung was better than that. He wouldn’t pass around Minho’s personal issues for them to play judge, jury, and executioner.

Feeling much better, Minho looked up at the rows of houses in front of him. It had been so very difficult to work up the courage to open up to Jisung and bare his soul like that. Jisung knew that too. Minho had made a mistake but Jisung was better than that. He was better than Minho that way.

There was still some residual resentment aimed at Jisung though. It had been so much easier to have the mentality everything was Minho’s fault. Maybe cutting ties with Jisung would be a good thing. Had their relationship turned toxic? They were just hurting each other.

Minho turned the corner, nearly walking straight into a post-box.

His mum was calling him now.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m nearly home, don’t worry. See ya.” He gabbled as soon as he picked up and then ended the call before she could so much as say a word.

There was a lot to think about.

Minho approached his house and then saw another new thing to think about.

Kim Seungmin was crouched on his doorstep, whistling a pretty melody to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i ended up changing the plot of this fic slightly after last chapter, everyone's comments really made me think and i realised i didn't feel satisfied with how i initially resolved things. so thank you for all your comments, all your deep thinking has literally affected what's gonna happen to minho :O
> 
> jeongyeon didn't re-appear at first but i decided to re-introduce her. it's been quite the sausage fest with just skz. she is too good for this world, honestly.
> 
> seungmin is the guy we all need. someone to yell everything the reader is thinking at the characters to release our frustration. go kim seungmin! 
> 
> hope you enjoy it...!  
> and happy holidays in advance :)


	16. You'll See Me Wishing to Stop and Close My Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungmin is unstoppable!

“What the fuck,” whispered Minho to himself. Out of all of Jisung’s friends, he probably knew Seungmin the least. He would literally never talk to Seungmin one-on-one without someone else there.

Seungmin was kitted out in a knobbly knitted hat with bobbles on the end that looked like it had been knitted by a grandma. The rest of him was swamped by an enormous puffy coat. He looked very cosy for someone waiting outside in midwinter. Strangely he looked a bit like a raccoon from the tan circles around his eyes.

“Hello Minho!” he called with a friendly smile.

Minho knew that smile could be deceiving. Anything could be behind it. Minho could take Seungmin in a fight, he was sure of it. However, he didn’t quite think that was the reason he was here. Seungmin liked to do his fighting with words, not fists.

Was he about to be blackmailed or extorted?

“Why are you here?” replied Minho curtly, getting straight to the point. “We barely know each other.”

“Ouch, that hurt,” said Seungmin, still with the same smile. “We’ve hung out quite a lot, you know.”

“Is this about Jisung?” Minho was already exhausted and he was done for the day. Business hours were _over_. “Just go home already.”

“Sorry but I _really_ think we should talk,” Seungmin said playfully. His voice dropped to a more serious tone. “I’m not here to pull a Changbin.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not dealing with this today.” Minho just wanted to eat dinner then maybe cry, for god’s sake. “I don’t know how long you’ve been waiting but I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.”

Seungmin turned to Minho almost apologetically.

“Time is of the essence,” was his cryptic response. Then he knocked on the door with a rat-a-tat-tat before Minho could stop him.

Minho’s mum opened the door. She beamed at the sight of Seungmin.

“Hello Seungmin!” she chirped, “Are you here to see Minho?”

“No-” began Minho.

“Oh yes, I heard what happened so I wanted to visit Minho to see how he was doing. I brought some get-well presents for him!” Seungmin held up a bag that Minho swore had not been there before.

Minho’s mum gave Seungmin an indulgent smile and nodded approvingly at Minho.

“How generous of you,” she said. “We’re just about to have dinner, why not come join us? Just as a thank you for coming here for Minho.”

“I’m sure Seungmin’s got better things to do,” tried Minho again to no avail. His mum’s eyes flashed dangerously at him, asking why on earth he was being so unhospitable.

“That sounds absolutely lovely,” interrupted Seungmin. It was too late. His infiltration was a success.

Immediately, Seungmin was chivvied into the Lee household, Minho following behind sullenly.

“Minho’s been telling me about you,” carried on Minho’s mum, “You’re studying Law, aren’t you? That’s very impressive.”

Minho kept a very sour expression on his face all throughout dinner. He wanted Seungmin to go away. His parents clearly didn’t though, Seungmin was an excellent guest. He kept up with all the current events and praised the cooking to no end. The little shit made himself right at home.

Minho gritted his teeth as Seungmin insisted on helping his parents clear the table. No doubt his parents would be waxing poetic about Seungmin for days and telling Minho he should be more like him.

“I’m so tired from being out today,” he said drowsily, purposely slurring his words. Then Minho mustered up the fakest yawn he could. “I have to go and rest from my injuries. Seungmin, you should just go home, I’ll be no fun like this. Bye-bye!”

Ignoring his mum’s Satanic glare, he skipped up the stairs to his room. As soon as he slammed the door, Minho snickered gleefully at his one small victory. About one minute later, he resumed the attire of someone at a close friend’s funeral.

Was Seungmin really here to help him? Was it OK for him to be mad at Jisung? Too many questions, goddamn it.

Minho rolled under his duvet, fully clothed. He was going to fall asleep so Seungmin would have no choice but to go home. If Seungmin really wanted to talk to him, he could always come tomorrow. Tilting his head back immediately blocked his nose up again though so he had to resort to breathing through his mouth.

Downstairs, Minho’s mum couldn’t stop apologising.

“Can I go give Minho his gifts? I never got to give them to him.”

“Oh, of course. Just follow me up to his room.”

She continued chatting and apologising for Minho.

“He’s had a rough time, bit of a bad day. I’m so sorry about that…”

Seungmin didn’t bother interrupting her, she kept up the flow of conversation entirely by herself all the way up to Minho’s bedroom, asking about his future career and praising him. Seungmin politely answered all her questions, but it was actually kind of annoying.

Seungmin knocked once, the rap of his knuckles echoing through the empty space. Minho’s room was right at the top on the third floor, a long way from the front door. Seungmin had practically got a tour of the whole house.

“It’s Seungmin,” he said, opening the door a crack to let the sound through.

“Mmmph,” came Minho’s voice, sounding rather muffled as if he had a blocked nose.

“Can I come in?” Minho didn’t reply to that and there was creak of the hinges as Seungmin came in anyway.

“I got you some get-well presents,” he said, placing the grapes and chocolate on Minho’s bedside table.

Minho’s face was still in bad shape. It was rather bruised and puffy and his nose was still very swollen. His nose was also slightly crooked, as if the doctor had not set it properly although Minho knew it was part of the healing process. The same thing had happened the last time Hyunjin broke his nose.

His expression must have been pretty miserable too, even with his eyes closed.

“Your nose is wonky,” blurted Seungmin unexpectedly. Minho’s eyes shot open in shock. Fuck.

“Trust me I know,” said Minho with a sigh, too tired to evade Seungmin anymore. He had to give him credit for his persistence. “It’ll go back to normal when the swelling’s gone.”

“Sorry, I was just surprised,” Seungmin said. “I wasn’t really focusing on your face earlier.”

“I’m trying to sleep,” interjected Minho pointedly.

“Your lights are still on.”

“I’m scared of the dark.”

“It’s only seven o’clock.”

“I’m injured and exhausted. You’re Changbin’s friend. You’re associated with him. Seeing you is traumatising,” Minho deadpanned.

He watched Seungmin looked for a place to sit, he was avoiding the bed, where Minho was lying spread-eagled.

“Well stop associating me with him for a moment,” snarked Seungmin, an edge finally creeping into his voice. It appeared Minho was wearing him down. “I wasn’t even in the country when it happened so don’t lump me in with that idiot. I only got back from Italy this morning.”

The chair at the desk was too far away from the bed so Seungmin hovered awkwardly on the carpet and ultimately remained standing.

“What did you want to talk about then?” Minho sat up in bed to face Seungmin. It seemed like he wasn’t going to leave until Minho talked to him.

“What happened with you and Jisung,” said Seungmin simply and then he didn’t need to say anymore.

“It’s pretty simple, I threw myself at him like an idiot and now he fucking hates me,” snapped Minho. “What more do you want to know?”

“You all know what happened anyway,” Minho declared flatly, face tilted towards the ceiling. Resignation was clear on his face. “Everyone hates me, I’m sure.”

It was a swift farewell to his newfound friendships and to his chance of ever having a civil conversation with Hyunjin.

“It’s not that simple,” Seungmin argued valiantly. “Your side of the story matters.”

How Minho wished someone could have told that to Changbin. It was too late now, anyway. Especially if…

“Tell me one thing,” said Minho calmly as he could manage. “Exactly how much did Jisung tell you?”

It was only for a fraction of a second but Minho saw Seungmin hesitate. It practically confirmed Minho’s worst fear.

“What do you mean?” He could tell Seungmin was avoiding looking him in the eye. “We got the general gist and then…”

And then Seungmin faltered.

“Do me a favour and don’t spare me the truth,” snarled Minho acidly, flinging away the bedcovers. He clambered out of bed and stood squarely in front of Seungmin.

“He fucking told all of you, didn’t he? My entire pathetic life story, everything that was meant to be for _his ears only_. You all know, don’t you? You all know what a fucking joke I am. I’m sure you had a good laugh together about it!”

Only then Minho realised he’d raised his voice. He swallowed hard but was unable to dislodge the hot sting of betrayal wedged in his throat.

Seungmin’s gaze had something far too close to pity for Minho to take. It took a moment to see that Minho had rendered him speechless. For someone so mouthy earlier, he sure was silent now.

“You know, at first I was fine with being the villain in this story,” The words flooded from his mouth now there was a willing pair of ears to listen. “I didn’t even care when Changbin hit me. It still doesn’t matter that much to me.”

Minho’s voice dimmed to a pained whisper.

“But I trusted Jisung, you know? Do you have any, any idea how personal that conversation was? I said shit I’ve never told anyone in my bloody life. I _entrusted_ him with every shitty thing about me because I _trusted_ him not to judge me and tell anyone.” Minho broke off, his voice had taken on a high, agitated tone. He swallowed hard again, hot tears beading at the corner of his eyes. Furiously, he blinked them away.

“Even if I fucked up that doesn’t stop me feeling completely betrayed. Now I have to live with the fact you six all know my dirty secrets and-and the fact Jisung had the audacity to – to even tell you!” Minho shuddered.

Seungmin was still looking at him that way. With his eyes full of concern, pity, understanding. It made his skin crawl in revulsion.

“Don’t you dare pity me, Kim Seungmin,” spat Minho. “Don’t you fucking dare look down on me or I swear to God I will strangle you myself, injured or not.” 

Minho knew he wasn’t making any sense, he really did want some sympathy right now. But conversely actually seeing it was a huge blow to his pride. He backed away from Seungmin and sat back down on the bed. He could feel his ears heating as the embarrassment began to hit him.

“I’m not here because I pity you,” Seungmin moved to join Minho on the bed. “It’s because I want to set things right.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Well, I think Changbin went too far, if that helps,” offered Seungmin unhelpfully. “And I have a feeling Jisung doesn’t actually hate you.”

“Yeah right,” was Minho’s deadpan response. Seungmin hadn’t been there to see the horror and disgust in Jisung’s eyes that night.

“Well, at the very least, I don’t hate you.”

Minho levelled Seungmin with a flat gaze. “I’m not gonna lie, that means fuck all to me right now. We barely know each other.”

“We were in the same high school and middle school actually,” corrected Seungmin. “And Hyunjin’s always been my neighbour. So you’re not completely right.”

“You’re not here to discuss the pedanticism of our relationship, Seungmin.”

Minho was tired. He actually really wanted to sleep now so he didn’t have to think about the fact that everyone knew he wasn’t…y’know. Straight. Not completely. To have other people knowing when he himself was just getting to grips with it…

“I want to help fix what’s happening. You and Jisung need to talk to each other and clear things up. I can help with that,” said Seungmin. “Jisung really thought of you as his best friend and you two always looked super happy together.”

“Some things might be better left unfixed.”

“It can be fixed though,” Seungmin insisted. “I’ve already given Chan and Changbin an earful for how they’ve been acting. As for Jisung telling us, I can’t unknow it but I can make sure no one brings it up to you, if you want. I’ll won’t force you to do anything though. Only if you’re willing.”

Seungmin was a good person. Although he wasn’t acting like it, Minho was actually very grateful that Seungmin would go to such lengths and even defend him, despite it all.

“Thank you,” It sounded far too easy for things to just resolve that way. Minho might have agreed one day earlier. “But do you know how I feel? Do you have any idea how much it hurts to have your trust broken like that? I don’t think I can forgive Jisung right now.”

“I understand,” said Seungmin slowly. Minho was glad he didn’t push him. And that he hadn’t asked exactly why he’d kissed Jisung, not mentioning the glaringly obvious reason of having feelings for him. “I’ll see myself out. Good night.”

“Goodnight,” returned Minho and he was briefly touched that Seungmin switched the lights off on his way out. There were still Seungmin’s gifts on the bedside table too.

He might as well. Minho stretched over and ripped open the chocolate bar wrapper then begun digging in. It was comfort eating at its finest.

*

Seungmin barged into Chan’s house again. If Minho wouldn’t meet Jisung, maybe it could work the other way around. At this rate, Changbin and Jisung were practically living full-time there.

He could sense that Jisung was apologetic for what he had done. The main obstacles were Chan and that idiot Changbin, who were obnoxiously overprotective to a ridiculous degree. A bunch of overzealous guard dogs.

The only other person in on his plan was Jeongin, who was the most level-headed person out of everybody. A simple conversation had been enough to make Jeongin realise how dumb they’d been acting. Between them, they’d split the job of kicking the others into shape. Seungmin would tackle Dumb and Dumber and Jeongin would convince Hyunjin as he had the advantage of being Hyunjin’s boyfriend.

They seemed to be in the middle of something.

“Um, hey Seungmin!” greeted Chan in a wobbly voice. He was shaking with exertion because he was carrying both Changbin and Jisung on his back. “You kind of caught us at a weird time.”

“Have you got your heads out your asses yet?” Seungmin demanded sharply. He kicked the back of Chan’s knees and watched him fold like lawn chair, Changbin and Jisung yelling and landing in a crumpled heap on the floor.

“Sheesh, more like something’s up your ass, Seungmin,” Changbin piped up, crawling away from the tangle of limbs. “Let’s sit down and talk properly then.”

They squished themselves onto Chan’s bed as Seungmin paced the room around them sternly.

The ‘talk’ consisted of Seungmin grilling them. Oh boy, did he grill them hard and laid it on especially thick for Changbin because he was extra stubborn. Legal points were made. Maybe a little emotional blackmail was thrown in. Seungmin found it extremely satisfying seeing the change in the look on their faces.

The key was to win Chan over. Once he cracked, Changbin would too because Chan was like their leader.

“Oh god,” groaned Chan, banging his head on the wall. “I’ve been thinking about what you said but now I’m just realising how bad we were about it. Fucking hell. Changbin mate, you really went overboard.”

Changbin finally looked sincerely apologetic.

“What can I do now?” he asked Seungmin in a small voice. “I overreacted and it was just completely wrong.”

“Well for starters, you really should go say that to Minho, not me.” Seungmin said sternly but not as harshly as before. “What you can do is to help Jisung fix things with Minho.”

Jisung, who had been sitting taciturn throughout the whole conversation, paled like a ghost.

“What?” stammered Jisung.

“Well you obviously need to talk to him. So you should meet up and talk.”

Jisung looked like he was shitting his pants at the thought of it, desperately looking back at Chan and Changbin for backup. Neither of them said anything.

Seungmin looked Chan and Changbin up and down.

“You and you,” he demanded. “Get out for now and think about what you’ve done. Go stand in the naughty corner.”

Meekly, they scuttled out the bedroom, still reeling from Seungmin’s earlier blows.

“Sorry Jisung,” breathed Seungmin. “I know it’s hard for you but you need to talk to me. I really don’t know what you’re thinking because you’ve barely said two words.”

Jisung was troubled. Deep down, he was very troubled. Deep down, Jisung felt like a soggy piece of cardboard being trodden into the ground on a rainy day.

“I still feel like it’s for the best if I move out,” Jisung said gloomily. “I was so upset I wasn’t thinking and I spilled everything Minho said without respecting his privacy. I have no idea how I can face him after that.”

“?” That was what Seungmin would have said, if it was possible to verbally express a question mark.

“How is it for the best if you look like you’re walking to your execution as you say it?”

Jisung sighed heavily. 

“Because we were really, really, really good friends,” explained Jisung. And to him, Minho meant far more than a friend. “And everyone thought it was for the best.”

Of course they had. Because in black and white, Minho’s actions were objectively awful. No one wanted Jisung to go ‘crawling back to him’ as Changbin had artfully phrased, even if that was what Jisung wanted. Some days, he wanted to run to Minho’s door and ask if it was real, if there was a place for Jisung in Minho’s heart. But that would be pathetic. Jisung could already see it, Minho’s panic and poorly hidden disgust as he made his excuses and let Jisung know it was a drunk mistake. Like all the other times, Jisung would be a statistic. No, Minho would never like him.

Minho wouldn’t be attracted to a dysfunctional sleep-deprived nerd like him, who was both awkward and too loud, whiny and argumentative. Jisung was Minho’s good friend, who he could open up to about his problems. Jisung still loved him though.

Thinking about it made his heart clench like it was being sliced in two. Fuck, how could he still live with Minho, knowing he must hate Jisung?

“But do _you_ think so as well?” pointed out Seungmin, watching Jisung’s reaction. He hadn’t taken a course in body language for nothing. Jisung looked away to the left, not meeting Seungmin’s eyes and his body language was closed off, a dead giveaway for his true feelings. “You shouldn’t move out because people tell you. It should be because you want to.”

“He practically assaulted me,” Jisung rebutted with a low enthusiasm, lying through his teeth. He knew that wasn’t it and that Minho was drunk. “I’m not going to bend over and act like it’s something _I_ need to get past. But-”

Seungmin appeared confused, but nevertheless Jisung ventured on. Chan knocked on the door of the bedroom lightly.

“Um, are you still busy?”

“Just give us a minute!” called back Seungmin grouchily. He hated being interrupted. “But what?”

“But maybe I could forgive him. If he was truly, genuinely sorry.” said Jisung, abject misery written all over him. “But now I’ve realised it’s not just about me forgiving Minho. I need him to forgive _me_ as well for outing him. Fuck, I wasn’t in my right mind then. How could I have done that? I must’ve been crazy.”

Jisung’s eyes had huge purple bags under them. They usually did, because Jisung stayed up till the crack of dawn but they seemed more prominent than they should, considering it was the holidays and you could sleep in.

Seungmin was about to ask another question when Jisung sucked in a breath, finally feeling up to divulging more information. In the background, Jisung could hear cutlery and plates being moved around but he tried to ignore it. His own phone had buzzed a while ago, his mum asking how he was at Minho’s, but he ignored that as well.

“I’m just scared to see him again. What if it’s all awkward between us? It’s going to be, because he hates me and thinks I still hate him and it’s a whole mess!”

Seungmin merely nodded in response, allowing the silence to further prompt Jisung.

And I _know_ for a fact he didn’t do it because he actually liked it, it was just because he was drunk and I was around. He’s done stuff like that before! I don’t want to see Minho and listen to him say it was just a drunken mistake-” Jisung let out a sigh of frustration and threw his hands in the air. “I mean, I don’t want him to say there was nothing wrong with what he did but I don’t want him to say he only kissed me for convenience. That it was nothing to him _, feeling-wise,_ because- _because_ -!”

“Because you like him?” said Seungmin, cautiously finishing off Jisung’s sentence.

“Yes!” cried Jisung passionately, facepalming. Then realisation dawned on him as Seungmin’s lip curled in a poorly concealed smirk. “Oh _fuck_. You have got to be kidding me.”

_Hm,_ Seungmin thought to himself. That definitely changed things a lot. Jisung was still blabbering in panic. Evidently his whole brain had been messed up because…

“You don’t think Minho kissed you because he perhaps _likes_ you?” To most people, if someone tried to kiss you, it usually meant they had feelings for you.

Jisung shook his head rapidly in disagreement. “I did think that but I can’t be sure you know. It’s not even him getting too grabby with me that I’m least upset about. I was shocked but what made it a hundred times worse was the fact Minho was only doing it _because_ he was drunk. Not because he wanted to do it with me.”

Jisung undoubtedly was a bit of an idiot when it came to his feelings. It looked like he was empathetic about everyone beside himself. How interesting.

This revelation only made Seungmin’s urge to reconcile Minho and Jisung even stronger. He got up to leave, having got what he came for. It would have been nice to stay for longer but Seungmin wanted to go and see Minho again and see if Minho returned Jisung’s feelings. If Minho did, then Seungmin would see if they would just _talk_ , for god’s sake. They didn’t have to confess romantically and snog each other (although it would be ideal) but just to resolve their conflict.

Jisung grabbed onto Seungmin’s arm frantically.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” he said. “Just let me move out in peace and get over it by myself.”

“Oh come on,” Seungmin replied. “We’re nearly twenty now, we should start facing our problems like adults. Have you ever heard the saying ‘communication is key’?”

“I wish,” mumbled Jisung. “But I’m a coward and I hate confrontation for this kind of stuff so please leave it alone? Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?” He tugged Seungmin’s limp arm like it was a ragdoll, shaking it up and down.

Seungmin wrenched his limb from Jisung’s hands. It was for the boy’s own good. He had no other choice. Now he had heard it from Jisung himself – that Minho’s actions weren’t what hurt most but rather it was supposed lack of romantic intent behind it. How could he sit and do nothing?

“No promises!” he called, already dashing out of the bedroom and down the stairs before Jisung could threaten him into silence.

“KIM SEUNGMIN DON’T YOU DARE!”

*

Seungmin just didn’t know when to give up, that little shit.

“Minho, your friend Seungmin is here!” his dad called from his study as the doorbell rang.

Minho paused in the middle of his flashcards and poked his face out his bedroom window. Seungmin was milling on the doorstep again, looking like butter wouldn’t melt his mouth.

“Tell him I’m not home!” Minho bellowed back downstairs.

“Too late!” his dad bellowed back up the stairs. “Your mum’s getting the door.”

For fuck’s sake.

“Hello again-”

Before Seungmin could finish, Minho butt in.

“I’m not talking about it,” glowered Minho, “You’re wasting your time.”

“Maybe I just want to be your friend,” shrugged Seungmin, looking unruffled. “Can we talk in your room?”

“ _No_!”

“Minho, is that how you treat a guest?” admonished his mum, appearing conveniently around the doorway of the living room.

Minho groaned internally.

“He’s not a guest.”

“Of course,” she continued smoothly, “He’s your friend. Why don’t you two go upstairs while I get some snacks for you?”

As soon as Minho shut the door behind him, Seungmin made himself comfortable. A little too comfortable, it seemed. He lounged on Minho’s chair and then opened his mouth to drop a bomb on him.

“When you kissed Jisung, was it just out of curiosity or because you actually like him?” said Seungmin, reaching straight for the jugular.

Minho remained silent. Admitting it out loud to himself was one thing but telling Seungmin was entirely another. Why was Seungmin here to beat a dead horse anyway?

“What difference does it make to the situation?” demanded Minho roughly. “My motive doesn’t matter here, it’s the consequences.” It was already over. How he wished Seungmin would get that message too and leave him alone to mourn.

“But what _was_ your motive?” enquired Seungmin relentlessly.

The man was studying Law, for Christ’s sake, he knew the tricks in the books to get people to open up. Additionally, Seungmin was just a devious person.

Annoyingly, Minho felt compelled to explain himself. After all, Seungmin already knew everything. Minho had nothing more to lose.

“I like Jisung,” said Minho monotonously. “I _really_ like him. So much that it scares me. But I only realised after I woke up after…that night. And it’s too late anyway. I don’t want to see him again.”

“Why am I telling you this anyway?” said Minho in exasperation to himself. “Maybe I’ve liked Jisung longer than I thought but I’ve never been able to freely admit it to myself.”

“And after Jisung made me realise how much of a hole I’ve been digging myself into, it hit me and I don’t want to use it as an excuse…but I _was_ really drunk and my inhibition was at an all-time low and I just ended up expressing myself like that. Then I just stopped thinking completely.”

Seungmin nodded thoughtfully, his expression carefully neutral. “Do you want to talk more about it? But later? I think my parents want me back home soon. Some stupid TV tradition we have.”

“That sounds fun, don’t let me keep you.”

The lies rolled off his tongue like water off a duck’s feathers. Even if it was selfish, Minho wanted Seungmin to stay and help sort out all of his messed up little emotions a little more. 

“Why don’t we go for a walk tomorrow? You know the park we all met up at a while ago? Meet me there in the afternoon. You free at three o’clock?”

Minho searched Seungmin’s expression suspiciously. “You’re really not siding with Jisung and cancelling me and all that?” It didn’t hurt to be sure.

“I’m a person who likes to know all sides of a situation before I make judgement,” shrugged Seungmin, crossing his arms.

“If I can get out of bed tomorrow,” agreed Minho reluctantly.

“You have my number, don’t you?” There had been a few times where the two of them had had correspondence when Minho asked Seungmin about medical law and vice versa for studying. “Just tell me if you’re free then.”

Seeming satisfied, Seungmin got up to leave Minho alone with his endless thoughts.

*

Seungmin created a new group chat with everyone, excluding Jisung. He titled it ‘IMPORTANT READ ASAP’ and posted the following: _Someone get Jisung to the park by our usual tree at 15:10pm tomorrow. I don’t care who. But he has to be there._

The advantage of never talking in the group chat had its uses, his rare messages would always be regarded very seriously by his friends. Sure enough, almost instantly Hyunjin was typing out a reply.

Hyunibunny: _Sure, I think Jeongin and I could drag him there. But why?_

Seungmo: _I’ll come and see you and explain beforehand. Tell him it’s an intervention or something. Find a good excuse._

There was a flurry of replying and questions which Seungmin ignored, leaving it to their imagination.

Hyunibunny: _Been wanting to drag you three out anyway. I swear you haven’t left Chan’s room for days._

That made Seungmin snigger. He was pretty sure Hyunjin had some idea of what was happening anyway.

He would bring Minho and the rest of the guys could bring Jisung and then they would have a chance to talk.

“Absolutely not,” said Changbin straight away after Seungmin explained. “It’s way too early for them to meet up.”

“Jisung told me he likes Minho,” said Seungmin. Jisung had asked him not to say it, but it would have been hard to convince Changbin otherwise.

Changbin looked utterly flabbergasted but Chan remained composed.

“It does make sense if I think about it now,” mused Chan slowly. “But what about Minho? Jisung’s been insisting it’s for a different reason the whole time.”

“I’m certain he kissed Jisung because he liked him, not for any other reason,” Seungmin said firmly.

Changbin still looked indignant. “They’re clearly not ready to see each other. You saw how Jisung looked yesterday when you brought it up.”

“But Minho won’t try and see Jisung again if Jisung really does move out because he’s given up. And Jisung won’t try to see him either because he thinks Minho hates him for telling us his secrets.”

Changbin looked like he still wanted to protest but thank the heavens Chan agreed and shut the other down.

*

At quarter to two, Minho heard Seungmin’s knuckles rap smartly against his door. After lounging on his bed and literally staring at the ceiling all day, Minho’s nose was feeling much less sore than the day before although it was still quite stuffed up, giving his voice a pronounced nasal whine.

In the end he hadn’t bailed on Seungmin, deciding it was better to try and have more friends. Jeongyeon was his friend now but once term started, it would be difficult to meet in person.

His darling mother had attempted to pry into his conversation with Seungmin and had quickly been waved down. For some odd reason, the usual reply of ‘oh, it’s just school’ hadn’t satisfied her.

“I’ll get the door!” called Minho, running down the stairs.

At three o’clock, Seungmin walked with Minho from his house to the park. It took them fifteen minutes to leave after Minho’s mum insisted on serving Seungmin hot chocolate and bundling Minho up so tightly in warm clothes he could barely breathe. It was the thought that counted, he supposed.

The snow was melting away steadily in the weak wintry sunlight but refreezing and making the area icy. In a surprisingly nice gesture, Seungmin kept a firm grip on Minho’s arm so when Minho skidded along, he didn’t fall and rebreak his nose or something equally horrible. A few passers-by gave him curious glances (he hadn’t taken the mask with him) that he decided to ignore. They weren’t anyone he recognised so he couldn’t give less of a shit. People got injured, it was how life worked. Not his fault if others judged him.

As they neared the fancy park entrance, complete with a statue of a stag on a pillar, they passed a family with two kids running around in wellies, the snow up to their thighs. Little devils. They kept walking in a silence that stretched towards awkwardness until Seungmin whistled a little tune.

“I’m got a confession to make.”

Minho stilled, suddenly wary. “Is this where a bunch of people pop out the snow and beat me up?”

It was all too good to be true, wasn’t it? It wasn’t enough to break Minho’s nose. Jisung’s friends were all going to come out and break his bones too. Well. It didn’t seem like a pleasant prospect but Minho supposed for Jisung’s sake he could endure it.

No, fuck that. He didn’t want his bones broken. Minho liked his limbs in working order. He didn’t like Jisung that much. Beside that, Jisung was still a snake.

“No, no,” chided Seungmin, after not saying anything for a beat too long. Minho was beginning to lose his mind. “I didn’t bring you here to exact my revenge. In fact, I’m trying to help you.”

Minho’s eyes narrowed.

“How exactly can you help?”

Seungmin checked his watch. The bastard probably only wore it for dramatic effect.

“In five minutes, Jisung will arrive in the park. In three more minutes, I can take you to him and you can talk.”

Minho backed away from Seungmin, gobsmacked. Him, speak to Jisung? Getting all his bones broken was a more appealing option than that.

“No way, I can’t fucking do that. He’s just gonna run away.” A pause. “And how many times do I have to tell you there’s nothing I have to say to that traitor?”

Before Minho could run away himself, Seungmin snagged him by the collar of his coat. Minho broke out into a coughing fit as his windpipe got compressed.

“I made this chance for you,” said Seungmin sternly. “Do you know how much effort it took on my part to arrange this? At least give it a try.”

“Well, I didn’t bloody ask you to, did I?” Minho crossed his arms. It was way too painful. Too awkward and messy. A bunch of things he didn’t want to think about. He hated to say it, but Minho wasn’t ready.

“Thanks but no thanks.”

Seungmin scanned his watch once again, eyebrows furrowing. Aha, the clock was ticking.

Well, Minho could stall! He would stall until the cows came home. Seungmin couldn’t change his mind. Minho couldn’t face Jisung, oh god, he wouldn’t face Jisung.

“Think about it,” he called to Minho. “Once Jisung moves out, you might never talk to him again. Are you really going to leave it like that? Just apologise to Jisung and tell him what he needs to know and tell him how you were hurt by him. Then it’s all on him for what happens next.”

_Come on._

Seungmin’s words settled on his shoulders like a ton of bricks. Seungmin also looked pretty ticked off at Minho. His gaze was challenging him.

_Come on, you coward. You chicken. Cluck cluck motherfucker._

That was what Seungmin’s expression was saying. Maybe not the last part, but Seungmin was deliberately goading him. Like the prideful idiot he was, Minho could feel himself rising to the bait.

Panic squeezed tightly at Minho but maybe there would never be a good time. Minho was never going to be ready and know exactly what to do or say. So why not get it over with so he could find some closure? Whether it ended well or not, Minho would never know unless he tried.

Minho froze in his tracks and stiffly turned around. Grim determination was in his eyes.

“You’re right,” he said. “It’s time I stopped acting like a coward for once in my life. Lead the way.”

*

It was such a stupid plan that Hyunjin could scarcely believe it was working. They were at the location Seungmin had specified for them and then Felix suggested a game of hide and seek. It was extremely out of the blue, but Jisung didn’t question it.

To be fair, Hyunjin couldn’t blame him. He had a lot going on right now.

Conveniently to no one’s surprise, in rock-paper-scissors, Jisung ended up being the seeker. He groaned but accepted his fate, looking exhausted already.

“Count to twenty!” shouted Jeongin, running off into the distance. “And do it properly.”

Just to be completely certain, Hyunjin tied his scarf over Jisung’s eyes and spun him around so he faced the tree.

“One…” Jisung called out, faltering when his voice cracked.

Immediately, everyone began running in the same direction, out of the park, leaving the trees as things listening to Jisung counting.

In the corner of his eye, Hyunjin caught Seungmin and Minho, who had a determined gait, stride towards Jisung. The sight of his ex-ex-best-friend didn’t anger him as much as Hyunjin had expected. No, the anger had withered away and there was only pity. Hyunjin had thought Minho’s beliefs were misguided before and been hurt but now he could see Minho was the most affected by it all. It had all turned around and backfired on him.

From the bottom of his heart, Hyunjin hoped Minho could set things right with Jisung. That would be enough for Hyunjin to welcome Minho back with open arms.

Seungmin gave a thumbs up and ran over to join the rest of them.

“This is where we leave the two idiots.”

Seungmin had done all he could. The rest was up to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year everyone!
> 
> So sorry for the late update...got pretty busy in the holidays and general holidays blues and all that
> 
> Anyhow apologies if this chapter isn't very coherent, not pleased with it but here it is...


	17. No More of This I Wanna Cry

“Nineteen…twenty…I’m gonna get all you bitches!” yelled Jisung with competitive spirit. He was still facing the trees, hands reaching up behind his head to loosen the scarf knotted around his eyes. It felt like centuries had passed since Minho had last seen him and his breath caught in his throat. Literally, it caught and he held back a cough, slapping hands over his mouth to stop sound from escaping.

He was nervous beyond belief, anticipation crackling inside him. It was one thing to fantasise about a reunion with Jisung but totally another to see him in the flesh. He’d paced himself through several potential scenarios on the walk here but his mind was awfully blank now.

Ideally, it would’ve been romantic. Minho would explain and drop a beautiful poetic speech full of metaphors about what he loved about Jisung. He would list all these unique little details only someone in love could notice about another person, dorky little things that endeared Jisung to him. Like the way Jisung hated hot drinks so he’d leave them to cool off, then forget about them and always pour it away when it was stone cold. Minho would remind him to drink it. Or how easy it was to make Jisung jump, just clamp a hand on his shoulder and his eyes would widen and jaw drop adorably.

Resentment temporarily forgotten, Minho found he wanted to say that and more, but all he could hear was the drumming of blood against his eyelids, pulsing madly.

It took some fiddling around before the scarf dropped to Jisung’s neck and he turned around, expecting to see an empty expanse of snow, with footprints scattered before him. Hide and seek hadn’t been the smartest suggestion really when he could just follow the footprints.

Minho stood in front of him, eyes apprehensive and shaking, looking worse for wear. He knew he should say something and start explaining because that was the whole reason Seungmin had stuck his neck out for him. But he couldn’t find the words, struck speechless at coming face to face with Jisung. 

The last time he saw Jisung, Jisung had been distraught and afraid. That was what Minho had done to him. Jisung just looked tired today, or maybe that was just because he had seen Minho. Either way, Jisung still looked beautiful. So, so beautiful. Only now could Minho admit that to himself, but it was too late.

_You betrayed me._

He was rooted to the spot like a statue. Jisung eyed him warily in their odd standoff.

The crunch of snow snapped through the surroundings as Minho shifted his wellies in the snow. Perhaps the full force of Jisung’s gaze upon him was rendering him silent. Or simply that he was scared shitless that he would say the wrong thing. So instead it was safer to say nothing at all.

And then it would slip away without him even trying…

With Jisung only an arm’s length away, it was so much harder to tell himself that he was mad enough to never want to see him again.

“I guess the plan was for us to talk to each other,” said Jisung eventually, looking awfully resigned. “If everyone went to the trouble of getting me to meet you, I shouldn’t waste their efforts.”

God, even his voice Minho had missed terribly.

“That’s considerate of you,” Minho blurted sarcastically and cursed himself.

“I would say that I would’ve heard you out earlier,” continued Jisung casually, acting as if Minho had said nothing. “But I’ve been trying to avoid seeing you if I’m honest. Who put you up to it?”

Every word was relaxed as if everything were behind them already, past history. Jisung felt like an end-game villain putting out a speech as he caught the hero in his final attempt and Minho was trapped and helpless.

“Seungmin,” Minho confessed, desperately hoping he could wrestle back some control of the situation.

The corners of Jisung’s mouth quirked up at that in what was not quite a smile. It was distracting because it drew Minho’s gaze downwards.

“Of course he would meddle,” said Jisung, “I guess Chan and Changbin needed to be out of the way for us to talk.”

“I-I did try and do something-” started Minho and stopped when he realised when it came out defensively. “Fuck, I can’t do this…b-but I will, I mean! I’m…”

If Minho were the lead actor of a drama, he was sure that the director would have fired him on the spot.

“I saw you outside Chan’s house,” Jisung said softly, almost timidly. He was straining to hold something back within him like a nightingale trapped within a birdcage. “I was afraid that-Are you alright?”

A cold lump slid from Minho’s throat straight down into his stomach. So Jisung had seen that whole spectacle. To be fair Jisung had seen worse, but Minho didn’t want the person he liked to see his ass getting thrashed by Changbin, while looking rather pathetic. It was confusing, Minho didn’t know whether he wanted to hug or punch Jisung for worrying about him.

“It’s none of your business, is it?” said Minho bitterly. His words seemed to be returning to him, which was a huge relief. Jisung looked like Minho had just slapped him in the face. “Or maybe it is. It’s the whole reason he beat me up, isn’t it?” 

This wasn’t headed in the direction Seungmin had advised him but Minho only saw red right now, the scarlet of betrayal and the tangled ball of guilt, embarrassment, self-loathing and shame unravelled, the threads embedding into his tongue.

“I know I hurt you,” spat Minho, needle-sharp. “But you _betrayed_ me! Now _everyone_ knows exactly how much of an asshole I am! I really wanted to try and be a better person but when no one thinks you can, I just feel like I should be an asshole and give them what they want to see!”

He let out a shrill desperate laugh that was almost a scream.

Jisung trembled, staring with guilty eyes and his foot shifted like he was going to step towards Minho, but was too afraid to get closer.

“Minho-”

“I didn’t believe it when Seungmin told me because I trusted you so damn much! I still can’t believe it now that you would-you would-!” Minho balled his hands into fists, shaking with frustration. It killed him to see how horrible he was being and how distressed Jisung was getting but he couldn’t stop. “I was almost happy when you said you were moving out because I didn’t want to see your traitorous face ever again.”

Jisung took that step towards Minho and breathed in.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Minho,” Jisung took another step in, stricken. “I’m so truly sorry about that. I never meant for it to spread, I honest-to-god only told Chan and Changbin at first that day because I was so upset it all spilled out but then the others asked and what I didn’t say, Changbin and Chan filled them in on. It was never on purpose, I never wanted to hurt you like that!” His voice was painfully raw with honesty. Minho could see he was sorry, terribly so.

He couldn’t do it. Minho couldn’t harden his heart and hold this anger with him when it was draining away this very moment as Jisung continued to step forwards. Minho jumped back like he’d been pressed to a hot surface.

“God, fuck, I don’t know where to start,” Minho wrung his hands in distress. “I shouldn’t even be acting like this when it happened because of me in the first place. I know you’re not a cruel person but I was just so hurt. Um, Jisung, I’m really sorry.”

_There we go._

“I’m so sorry for-for what I did. I don’t want to make any excuses but please believe me when I say I would never intentionally hurt you or try and make you uncomfortable in anyway. I’m so sorry I did.”

He let out a deep breath, feeling lightheaded and gathered the courage to keep going, looking down at his shoes to avoid seeing the judgement in Jisung’s eyes.

“You don’t have to forgive me. You can move out if you want. If it’s that uncomfortable living with me. We don’t have to see each other ever again. If you really want it that way.” Each sentence was like a gunshot to the chest but Minho tugged the words from his throat, as painful as it was, stammering through this mess of an apology. As much as Minho didn’t want it to happen, he wasn’t going to insist Jisung stay if Minho made him truly uncomfortable.

“I know,” said Jisung beseechingly. “I _know_. You made a mistake when you were drunk. It was an accident. Minho, I-I don’t blame you for that. We were both drunk, you were far drunker than me. I don’t hold you responsible. It was just a mistake.” 

“Yes,” he grasped desperately onto Jisung’s words. “I swear to God, I swear on my life that I’m not like that. I’m not a good person but I’m not that low, it was all a giant mistake-”

“You are a good person,” said Jisung. He looked miserable, more so than earlier but Minho couldn’t decipher exactly why. Well, it was probably because he hated Minho and every second with him was painful. But then Jisung’s next sentence proved Minho wrong.

“Minho, earlier when you said you would be happy never seeing me again, were you serious?”

Jisung cared. He cared. Did he still care about him? The thought bounced around in his brain like a rabbit.

“No, of course not,” Minho confessed, “If I were serious, I wouldn’t even be here trying to talk to you in the first place.” At that, Jisung visibly relaxed. It made Minho hope. Maybe it could be okay. They could be friends again.

“I forgive you, Minho. But it’s too painful to keep living with you.”

“That’s okay,” said Minho hurriedly, with acceptance. Something was plummeting. “I understand. Totally.”

He didn’t understand at all. Jisung’s actions were contradicting his words – was Minho simply reading too far into it? The way Jisung stepped forward, how he had almost reached out for Minho.

Pain didn’t always make sense.

It felt like the conversation was reaching a close, as was Jisung himself, withdrawing away from Minho, folding the shutters. Jisung’s forgiveness should have been freeing to Minho. But it was heavy and suffocating on him. Somehow Jisung was further away from Minho than before, closing in on himself and keeping Minho out. It hurt incredibly badly. This wasn’t the way Minho wanted it to go.

He wanted it to end with him and Jisung, promising to be better friends to each other in the future. Then Minho would have been so happy and a million shining little stars would burst in his chest.

But wasn’t this closure they were both seeking? No matter the result, they had talked it out and Minho had accomplished what he’d set out to do. Apologise to Jisung and accept Jisung’s apology.

Jisung made a small movement, likely deeming their talk over. Then he would walk away and they would keep living their lives, but separately forever.

_It’s your last chance._

Seungmin’s words echoed in his mind.

“It was a mistake to kiss you when I was drunk,” Minho’s voice quavered. “Losing control like that is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my entire life.”

Jisung looked blank, Minho was only reiterating his own points from before. ‘We’ve just gone over this’ his expression seemed to say.

“But I’m fully sober now,” Minho said and then he took the plunge. Here goes nothing. “And I still want to kiss you.” _So badly._

Jisung’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback. It took him some time to regain his composure, a torrent of emotions passing through him. He stared at Minho heavily.

“What I’m trying to say is I like you romantically,” explained Minho breathlessly, giving Jisung no chance to misunderstand him. “As more than friends. Just wanted to get that out in the open.”

Jisung’s face creased in pain. It was heart-breaking to see him like that. Minho couldn’t tell if Jisung was extremely repulsed by the confession or if it was something else he didn’t dare consider. He didn’t dare hope for anything.

“You don’t,” replied Jisung, shaking his head. “You don’t. You’re projecting. You’re confused about your feelings. It’ll go away eventually. I’m your best friend and you’re just seeing it wrong”

“I’m not,” insisted Minho firmly, panic bubbling within him. “Maybe along the way I’ve been suppressing them for who knows how long but my feelings just exploded out of me that night and the next day I realised. I like you. I really like you.”

“No,” countered Jisung quietly, looking more and more agitated. His words spilled out quickly too, tripping over each other as they fell from his mouth. “You figured out I kissed you at the party that night. Now you think there’s been feelings since then, but really there aren’t any. Don’t hurt yourself over something that isn’t real. You finally figured out a way to accept yourself and it must have been overwhelming. And I was there, I liked guys and drunk you just went for the conveniently closest person.”

“They’re real,” said Minho stubbornly. He didn’t know why he was still arguing. Jisung, for obvious reasons, did not return his feelings. It hurt, but it wasn’t unexpected in the least. Jisung was trying to help him get over these

But he needed Jisung to understand they were genuine feelings. It wasn’t just the heat of the moment. It was more. For once, Jisung’s perceptiveness had completely failed him. He was wrong about Minho’s feelings.

“I swear to God, I’m not confused, I know my own feelings,” pleaded Minho, “You can say anything but just know they’re real. It’s not a passing thing!”

“How can you say you know your own feelings?” spat Jisung, anger seeping into his tone for the first time in their reunion, volume rising. “You were in denial about liking guys for absolute years! I can’t believe you. It’s better to get over it.”

“I was blind to my feelings, I admit it!” Minho realised he was almost shouting, voice cracking with frustration but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “But I’ve woken up to them, _you_ helped me see them!”

“You don’t fucking like me!” Jisung yelled back, stance sharp and pointed. “You-you _can’t_ possibly like me-!”

“Stop trying to convince me, because it’s not going to work!” Minho shouted. “Han Jisung, I fucking like you and I will prove it to you!”

God, how was he going to do _that_? He took an urgent step to towards Jisung, who instantly backed away.

“How are you going to do that?” retorted Jisung. “Grab me and kiss me again?” God, Jisung looked so panicked and startled. Minho didn’t believe anymore that Jisung had really forgiven him. Perhaps he was just trying to be the nice one and help out Minho but now his true feelings were seeping through.

The hurt that pierced through his heart in a tremendous volley of thunderbolts.

Even Jisung pitied him and wanted Minho to just leave him alone. He had flung the pretence of forgiveness in his face to satisfy Minho so he would let slip out of Jisung’s life in peace. Why was he so determined to act like Minho couldn’t like him? Was the weight of his feelings that disgusting, that repulsive to bear?

But Minho couldn’t bear to leave Jisung alone and see that happen. It was utterly selfish on his behalf but Minho needed Jisung to know it was real.

Jisung began to walk away, shoulders shaking as Minho was consumed by his thoughts.

Minho felt that hazy judder of deep-seated frustration and then he understood. He had to break this cowardice that still chained him down. There must be some way, some grand gesture that proved he really did like Jisung. He was so frustrated his head was throbbing, vision pulsing in flashes.

“Don’t leave, please!” he begged. Jisung didn’t look back and he was three, four, now five metres away. Further and further away, his retreating figure growing smaller. “I’m sorry, I know it must gross you out, but please you have to know it’s real.”

Jisung halted, seizing up. He looked on the verge of turning around.

Charged up and high on emotion, Minho bridged the gap between the two of them and grabbed Jisung by the shoulder.

“I’ll prove it,” he gasped breathlessly. “Just wait. Fuck, wait and let me show you.”

Jisung became as tense as a taut bowstring in his grasp and Minho released him immediately, realising the implications of his touch.

“I won’t touch you! Not like that again, fuck no…but I’m gonna prove it, just hang on.”

He pulled off his gloves, tossing them onto the snow. His palms were clammy with sweat anyway.

Minho rummaged through his pockets for his phone. Jisung watched him, sceptical and overbearing with judgement that pressed heavier every second. Minho was like that dude from Greek myths who had to hold up the sky and the sky was really fucking heavy. Atlas, was it?

“Hang on, just give me a moment, please,” he muttered, fingers trembling as he entered his password, only getting it right on the third attempt from how shaky his hands were.

Jisung looked impatient but he remained beside Minho, for which he was immensely grateful. Minho hit the dial button and put his phone on speaker.

It was something he would have to do one day. Minho had just decided he wasn’t going to put it off for the future. Their response now would be the same in the future anyway, so why not spare himself the anxiety and just get it over and done with?

“It’s my mum,” he explained frantically, jabbing a finger wildly at the contact name. The phone began play the dialling tone. “Just don’t say anything, let me prove it. Please.”

Minho was almost losing hope with how long the dial tone went on for and considered calling his dad, when his mum picked up on the last ring.

“Minho, what is it? Are you okay? You’re not hurt again! You weren’t attacked again, were you?”

“Is Dad with you?” choked out Minho, heart beating into his throat, closing it up. He could scarcely breathe. “You both need to listen.”

“He’s in the study,” She called his name and there was crunchy static for a moment. “He’s here now, dear. We’re listening, Minho. Are you okay?” His mum picked up on the urgency in his tone and she began to sound worried too, asking him where he was. 

Jisung tilted his head in confusion, clueless as to why Minho was dialling his parents.

Minho’s breath came in shallow pants and his nose beaded with sweat, even in the winter chill. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, till coloured dots spread across the darkness of his closed eyes. Sweat rolled down his temple and collected at the tip of his chin, although his hands were freezing cold.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw with unfocused vision that Jisung’s eyes were huge with fear and he began to step towards Minho, reaching for his phone.

“Minho, stop-!” he whispered, lurching towards him in a jerky gait.

He was too slow. Minho twisted to the other side, clasping the phone like a lifeline.

“Do you need to tell us something? Mum’s listening, Minho. You can tell me what it is.” Her tone was urgent with worry.

“I-I don’t, I don’t just like girls,” gasped Minho, faint and dizzily. “I like men-I like men too sometimes. I like a guy right now. A lot. Not joking. I’m serious. Dead serious.”

He felt his knees buckle once the words left him and stumbled, falling to his knees on the ground the crash softened by the cushion of snow. Minho thrust one hand in the snow in front of him to stop him curling into a ball completely on the floor. Only now he felt how much he was trembling.

Vaguely, Minho registered sharp intakes of breath, not only from the phone but Jisung too. Then the line went bone-chillingly silent.

“T-that’s what I wanted to say,” he whispered, the phone almost sliding out of his limp grasp. “I know you guys don’t support it. I hope you can accept it, accept me. If you can’t…or won’t…then I’ll get out your lives. Because it’s not going to change. _Ever._ ”

Then he hung up immediately before either of his undoubtedly gobsmacked parents could say anything in return.

It was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UM YEAH possibly the biggest bombshell I have dropped thus far I am SO SORRY
> 
> back to regular tuesday updates (i hope?!?), have this chapter a bit faster to make up for the delay last time eek
> 
> apparently my lovely lovely uni isn't giving us an easter break so i will be up to me eyeballs in work all the way till may but YES i will finish this fic but god...not sure if i will come out alive!! edit: i'm an idiot and i do have an easter break! I can't read!
> 
> and if Jisung seems like a dick, well the poor dear is dead convinced Minho will never ever like him for some reason and now he's freaking out because humans. Humans are idiots. Minho seems to have gone off the rails but that's what strong emotions can do to you, eh? *sweats nervously*
> 
> goddddd i consider this chapter the climax of the story and i tried really hard to make it coherent so I hope you enjoy it...
> 
> Thank you once again for all the comments, I will get round to replying but yes I read them all and cherish them dearly and I love you all


	18. Tomorrow I Know I'll Just Be The Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They fuck you up, your mum and dad.  
> They may not mean to, but they do.  
> They fill you with the faults they had  
> And add some extra, just for you.
> 
> But they were fucked up in their turn  
> By fools in old-style hats and coats,  
> Who half the time were soppy-stern  
> And half at one another’s throats.
> 
> Man hands on misery to man.  
> It deepens like a coastal shelf.  
> Get out as early as you can,  
> And don’t have any kids yourself."  
> \- This Be The Verse, by Philip Larkin

“Do you believe me now?” rasped Minho, his eyes shining almost sinisterly. “I’m serious. Really serious.” He picked himself off the ground and switched off his phone, sliding it back into his pocket. Two dark patches stained his knees, where his trousers had been dampened by the snow.

Jisung just stared, dumbstruck. He had been adamant before Minho didn’t and couldn’t like him but who was he trying to convince now? Minho? Or himself? When Minho had said he would prove it, this was not the kind of fucking gesture Jisung had been expecting. He had been thinking more along the line of romantic words, a speech. Not…whatever this was.

Jisung wanted to kill Minho for being such a daredevil bastard. He knew that Minho’s parents were homophobic because of their religious beliefs. So for Minho to out himself like that just to prove a point to Jisung…it meant that he really…

Did Minho really like him?

When you’ve been telling yourself it would never happen for months, when it finally does it takes a while to sink in.

They were less than half a meter apart now, the condensation of their breath intermingling in the air.

“You’re an impulsive idiot,” growled Jisung, “I can’t believe you actually did that. You’re…you’re motherfucking _insane._ ”

Why would you go that far for _me_? He wanted to scream.

Minho laughed uproariously, giddy off the high of his rebellion. “I’ve always done crazy things.”

There was going to be hell to pay later but Jisung was completely gone, fixated on the sight of Minho, who _liked_ him.

“Then we’re both crazy,” Jisung whispered, stroking Minho’s bruised cheek with his gloved hands. Minho’s pupils followed his movements with wrecked desperation. This was mindbogglingly crazy.

Softly, Jisung closed the remaining gap between them, naturally leaning in till their lips found each other. It was a small careful kiss, an offering of the weight of his feelings but also a question to be answered.

It was different from that spine-tingling blindfolded kiss and the wild carnivorous hunger on Christmas Eve. This was a kiss that healed, that warmed Jisung from inside out. He could strip in this snowy park and not freeze as heat flooded him from head to toe.

Minho was frozen against Jisung’s touch, lips dry.

“What are you doing?” he said, words muffled.

“Something crazy,” murmured Jisung against his lips. “Is it okay?”

Minho pushed Jisung off him, lines etched in his forehead as he frowned deeply.

“Wait, you like me back?”

“Would I be kissing you if I didn’t?” Jisung replied, exasperated. He wanted to lean into Minho’s body, wrap his arms around him, get what he had been beating himself up for wanting over the past few days and what he had been pining after for months.

“This isn’t a trick…or pity, or you comforting me or something?”

“For fuck’s sake Minho, I’m kissing you because I have wanted to kiss you for months. Kiss me now, talk later.”

An invisible lightbulb went off in Minho and suddenly Jisung let out a small ‘oof’ as Minho pulled him forwards by the shoulders and reconnected their lips.

_Finally._

Jisung felt as if he was made from gold as he let his hands trace Minho’s jaw, stroke a finger over the shell of his ear.

They were snogging nice and proper in the snow, everything forgotten except for each other. Minho deepened the kiss and for a few minutes, Jisung just let his body take over and a series of squelchy, slurpy noises was all that could be heard against the wind. They probably looked like they were trying to suck each other’s faces off.

His heart was running at a hundred miles per hour.

Heat was radiating off Minho’s chest as Jisung found himself flush against the other boy, carding his fingers through Minho’s hair and knocking off his beanie, which fell noiselessly to the ground. They simply enjoyed each other’s company, tasting, testing, finding the boundaries.

Minho let out a wet groan as Jisung’s teeth raked over his top lip then they finally broke apart, hair dishevelled and cheeks flushed. It had gotten messy in all their passion. Jisung’s lips were shiny with saliva, dark red and swollen from Minho’s ministrations. Minho didn’t look much different, lips glossy and pink, breathing faster than normal.

Except one thing: “Minho, your lip’s bleeding.”

“I guess I don’t have to move out anymore,” he told Minho, who chuckled, linking their fingers together to squeeze his hand tightly. “I haven’t contacted student accommodation yet anyway. Because you know I’m a terrible procrastinator.”

“For once I’m glad you are,” Minho leaned down and rested his head on Jisung’s shoulder, eyes dreamy and picturing their fluffy domestic future. Then he snapped out of his bliss, jerking his head off Jisung, straining himself upright.

“Shit Jisung,” Minho said, releasing his clutch on Jisung’s hand with a grip like steel. “I told my parents.”

“It’ll be okay,” Jisung had only wanted to comfort him, but Minho recoiled like he had been struck.

“It won’t be fucking okay,” Minho said angrily and to his horror, tears pricked at his eyes. “What am I going to do, it’s a damn mess.” His voice cracked.

Firmly, Jisung grasped both of Minho’s hands tightly and tugged Minho close to him, stroking his hair. He cupped Minho’s face and forced him to look directly into his eyes.

“We’ll be fine, Minho, we can get through it.”

It was like his words fell on deaf ears because Minho shook his head against Jisung’s shoulder and groaned.

“Shut up,” he said wetly, throat thick. “I’m going to die if my parents stop supporting me financially. I’m just full-on screwed. I’m going to have to drop out of university. Give up my career. Oh god, fuck. What am I going to do?”

There was the sound of snow being displaced with increasing volume.

“I don’t regret doing it, not one bit. I knew what the consequences would be. And I have you now.” Minho added, a small smile breaking through on his taut face. “But I’m so scared.”

Minho’s mind was overwhelmed and wasn’t processing well. All he could see was a future where he lost his parent’s support and he would end up alone, without a family. Just himself.

“I’m gonna be all alone,” he mumbled into Jisung’s warm neck, melting into his touch. Minho wished he could just dissolve and melt into Jisung and not have to think anymore, about anything ever again.

“Don’t say that,” Jisung scolded, hugging him even tighter “You have me now and you’re stupid if you think I’m going anywhere anytime soon.”

*

When the Jisung’s scheming friends emerged in the distance, Minho was still nesting in the hollow of Jisung’s collarbones. Jisung’s jacket was damp but not wet, Minho had shed a few tears – but not as many as Jisung had expected.

“Well, well, well,” called Felix cheerily, stomping over in his wellies, “What have we here?”

Minho and Jisung jumped apart but their hands were still linked tightly, fingers interlocked. That was enough for the rest of them, who broke into hoots and shrieks.

Seungmin was wise enough to check the facts before they began a premature celebration.

“Are you…together now?” Jisung’s shy nod confirmed it and a full-scale celebration that was turning into a riot began to take place in the park, until Hyunjin noticed the wiped out, vacant expression Minho had.

He threaded through the crowd to Minho, lightly touched his arm and pulled him into a tight hug, overcome with fierce protectiveness. Minho barely registered the foreign touch, too lost in his head.

Something was definitely off. Hyunjin tugged Minho away from the others as everyone began walking so they trailed slightly behind the others. Jisung kept his distance, aware they had some things to work out between them.

“Min, what’s wrong?”

“Hyunjin?” asked Minho softly, taken aback as if he had just noticed Hyunjin was walking next to him. “Why are you here?”

Hyunjin had never seen Minho look this vulnerable, even when Minho had come to apologise him. He wrapped an arm around Minho, pulling them closer together. Minho froze then relaxed into his touch, subconsciously chasing the physical comfort.

“Wait. Before that let me apologise to you,” said Hyunjin, voice full of shame. “I was too quick to judge you because of what happened in the past. I thought I had forgiven you but clearly I still had a lot more anger left bottled up. But it was wrong to use that anger to make you out to be the bad guy. I should have realised the blame wasn’t all on you.”

“So you don’t hate me?” murmured Minho, looking faraway. “That’s nice to hear.”

“Not anymore,” said Hyunjin wholeheartedly with a smile, then it faltered slightly. “I didn’t know what you’ve been going through all this time. I wish you could’ve told me earlier. I wish I had been a good enough friend for you to come to. I’m proud of you for getting through it all, Min.”

Minho said nothing but frowned.

“Did something happen beside you talking to Jisung?”

The traitorous tears spilled down Minho’s cheeks before he could help himself.

“I-I told my parents I liked a boy,” he said woodenly and that was enough for Hyunjin to understand, knowing his parents all too well and he trapped Minho back in a fierce embrace, warm and loving.

“Hyunnie,” he sobbed, the childhood nickname rolling off his tongue automatically. He crushed Hyunjin between his arms, compressing the latter’s ribcage. “I missed you- I missed you so much-”

Then he was crying like a baby into Hyunjin’s chest. The rest of the group stopped walking when they saw Minho and Hyunjin had stopped in the middle of the path. Everyone else - Jeongin, Seungmin, Chan, Changbin and Felix looked confused but still approached, unsure if it were tears of happiness from the joy of reconciliation – or something else entirely.

“I’m here Min,” Hyunjin whispered into his hair. “I won’t let you face this by yourself. Jisung won’t. None of us will.”

Jisung rushed over, looking intensely worried.

“Minho?”

“It’s about-about _that_ ,” stammered Minho, “You know.”

Minho was openly crying now, tear tracks freezing down his face and snot running down his face, the stress of the last few days seeping out with each teardrop. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, gazes sticking uncomfortably like syrup. Why were they all watching him so apprehensively? It made him want to run.

Changbin stopped in front of him sheepishly, unsure how to approach.

“I’m really sorry,” he said roughly, voice thick with emotion. “For hitting you. For thinking the wrong way about you. I can’t be sorry enough.”

To Minho’s utter disbelief, Changbin – cocky arrogant Changbin – knelt down in the snow and bowed to him.

Chan stepped forwards.

“I’m, no _we’re_ all sorry for treating you how we did too.” Then he too knelt down and joined Changbin on the snow. The world was turning upside down or something, that had to be it. Even Felix and Jeongin were kneeling down with him. Seungmin remained standing, he had nothing to apologise for.

“Y-you can get up,” Minho said. He honestly didn’t care that much about it anymore. His fear of his parents had blown everything out of the water. This could hardly compare. He didn’t have room in his heart to hate them anymore. It felt so insignificant. “I accept your apology, it’s cold on the ground so please get up.”

It was the same with Jisung. Although Jisung had betrayed Minho, Minho realised he could either do one of two things. Carry on holding this grudge and hate Jisung forever or to take his own power back by being the bigger person and forgiving him.

It was also why it had been somewhat thrilling to tell his parents, despite how afraid he’d been. After all, Jisung had already outed him. But they weren’t the only ones who knew. Ten knew. Joshua knew. 

Jeongyeon knew but Minho had told her out of his own power. Perhaps he would have told the rest of them in the future when he was ready to. It had been forced out earlier but he figured it was better to try and be confident about it, even if his insides still shrivelled at the idea.

Telling his parents had been like that one act of rebellion against the path they’d laid down brick by brick for him to follow. It was why he’d been so lightheaded after, stuck in the adrenaline rush of it but also struck down by the magnitude of his actions.

On the day Seungmin came to see him, when Minho had chowed down a ridiculous amount of food, he had been thinking the entire time, new ideas appearing as quickly as the rate the food was disappearing.

When all the wrappers were empty and he was so full he thought he’d throw up if he moved, Minho realised he had nothing to gain by hating Jisung and staying angry at him. It was just hurting Minho. Anger was toxic to the body and it made you feel terrible all over. It didn’t mean Minho was dismissing what Jisung did, just like Jisung’s forgiveness didn’t dismiss how upset Minho had made him (intentional or not).

It just meant Minho realised that this one action didn’t define Jisung as a person and that he could look past it because sappily enough, Minho loved Jisung and still couldn’t shake his faith that Jisung was a good person. Maybe he was an utter fool and his heart would get broken later. But he was happy with Jisung right now. After feeling so hollow for months, Minho wouldn’t let this one good thing escape him, even if it _could_ be short-lived. There was also the chance it wouldn’t be.

“If you’re willing, does that mean we can be your friends again?” Jeongin said tentatively. “We weren’t tolerating you just because you were Jisung’s friend. We all genuinely like you.”

“Whatever you’re going through right now,” Chan added, “We all want to help you, if you would allow us to.”

Jisung was with him. And now, Hyunjin. He wasn’t alone. Or maybe he hadn’t been for a while, and he’d just failed to see the people standing around him.

“I’m here, Min, we’re all here, okay?” Hyunjin said, squeezing his shoulder lightly.

Minho made his decision. 

“I called my parents and told them about my sexuality.” Minho declared, mustering up as much bravado as he could, attempting to sound strong about it. “But I know for a fact they’re homophobic.”

Then the waterworks promptly started up again, betraying how he really felt. He wiped the corners of his eyes roughly and winced when he pressed down on his bruises.

“I’m sorry,” said Changbin gruffly. “I’ll be behind you every step of the way with your parents though.” Minho nodded and offered a watery grimace that Changbin returned awkwardly.

“You’re not alone,” said Felix comfortingly. “We’re all here with you.”

This only made Minho sob harder, hiccupping on his sobs. He didn’t have to pretend to himself he was okay being alone. Now there were really people by his side who would support him. Maybe they’d leave sooner or later and Minho couldn’t guarantee they’d stay forever but it was enough for now. His parents weren’t all he had. They weren’t the only ones who would support him.

Jisung would support him. Hyunjin would support him.

His friends would support him.

It might not be okay, but that was okay too.

In a rag-a-tag bunch, they’d trooped in celebration back to Chan’s house and pulled out all the stops. Takeout, drinks, karaoke, the whole bunch. Minho tried his best to absorb himself into the merriment around him, but his heart just wasn’t in it. Everyone was trying their best to cheer him up, but Minho still couldn’t freely smile. Not when life threatened to fall apart before his very eyes.

Jisung could see that too and he stuck close to Minho, his very presence soothing. Even if he said nothing, Jisung felt like a safe space to Minho. Minho could still hardly believe they were…together. That less than an hour ago, they’d been screaming and crying then kissing like crazy, like desperate star-crossed couples in dramas. It was a small blessing protecting Minho from when he inevitably went home to his parents and faced the music. If he had dished it, he would have to take it.

His phone had long since run out of battery, hidden away in Hyunjin’s pocket.

“Don’t think about it for now,” Hyunjin had said and confiscated his phone. “Just imagine us all behind you when you see them.”

As the spontaneous party edged towards midnight, Minho couldn’t take the fluttering anxiety gathering in a tight ball in his stomach any longer. Any more waiting and he would surely explode.

“I have to go home,” Minho announced to the group solemnly, accepting to lie in the grave he’d dug for himself. “Seungmin, I seriously cannot thank you enough. And thank you everyone, just for…being here for me. But I have to go now.”

He tucked his puffy coat around himself, sticking his hands deep within his pockets with a heavy heart. The snow had melted more under the emerging sun, becoming slippery and slushy with ice. He would have to walk carefully to avoid falling again. There was only so much damage his nose could take before it broke off altogether or something.

Jisung caught up with him before Minho left the doorstep, the lantern beaming down on them both.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” said Jisung, half-pleading. “You know you don’t have to do this by yourself.”

Minho nodded firmly. It was one thing for his parents to trash him, but another to hear them shower Jisung with insults and drag his character through the mud. Then he would really lose it.

“I have to do it this by myself,” he heard himself say numbly. If only he could convince himself. It would be so much easier for Jisung to come with him to brave the storm together. But he didn’t want Jisung hurting over his parents. No, that was Minho’s business only.

Even if he was no longer alone, this was one thing he would face alone.

The streetlights barely illuminated the path home. Minho’s phone was dead so he couldn’t even use his phone’s flashlight to guide him on the way. He stumbled a few times on the ice and once near skidded over on a particularly icy patch. His lip had bled a few times on and off, partly from Jisung’s mauling and the dry wintry air but Minho barely felt the pain, gnawing anxiously on his split bottom lip, which was leaving a trail of scarlet behind.

Drip drip drip.

The wind rustled the trees and bushes fiercely, so noisy Minho felt as if he could hear people stomping their shoes all around him.

When he reached his front garden, there were several cardboard boxes sat on the lawn, their bottoms soggy from sitting in the snow. Beside them was Minho’s suitcase, the one he’d packed with Jisung to take home.

It wasn’t looking good. It looked like his parents had already begun removing his presence from the house.

A bit overkill, Minho thought to himself, and so very dramatic. They could have at least let him collect his things himself. His joking did nothing to cover the gravity of the situation however, it was like sticking a plaster onto an amputated limb.

He rushed over to the boxes, worried about the contents sitting at the bottom, where the snow must’ve soaked through. Nearly every possession he kept in his room had been tossed inside and carelessly by the look of it. Even the sentimental trinkets, like the crayon drawings he’d done in primary school and marbles he’d played with as a toddler. Some things were dented or chipped and the more delicate items simply broken.

A tiny spark of anger flared in Minho, followed by and buried by a wave of grief. Was he just another old toy to his parents, to be tossed out when no longer useful or wanted? His hands shook at he tried to lift the boxes and the bottom simply gave way, the soggy paper weighed down by its contents. The contents spilled across the lawn, sinking into the snow.

Minho tried to sift through the contents, to find his hands shaking too badly. It really was cold out tonight.

There was still light coming from his parents’ bedroom window. The rage welled up within Minho again. He was not so easy to throw away. If they wanted to discard him, he wouldn’t silently disappear like rubbish that vanished without a word every week.

Minho rang the doorbell and rapped his knuckles hard against the door. No one came down to open the door but there were raised voices. He smirked. Were they debating whether to let him in?

As much as he owed his parents for raising him, Minho also saw their debt to him. If he hadn’t played the perfect child all those years and maintained their pristine image, their reputation would have been nothing in this posh middle-class neighbourhood. Suffering through a rotation of extracurriculars, playing the piano for guests when they came around, all those insufferable parties where everyone tried to one-up each other and pretend they were better than everyone else.

He’d gone through them all to not shake the boat. Minho was the best child. A damn _perfect_ child. The ultimate weapon for his parents to boast about. No kid could top Minho’s achievements in the neighbourhood, not even Hyunjin. He was the one everyone compared their kids to, the standard. So everyone laid it on thick to his parents, telling them how well they’d raised him.

Minho banged on the door, more forcefully than before. He was practically thumping it, pain welling up in his knuckles. The door let out a few protesting squeaks.

“Can’t your own son come in?” he shouted into the letterbox. That would get their attention. The walls had eyes and ears in this bloody part of town. Minho’s parents perched on top of this roost so there were a bunch of eager hoppers ready to pull them down. The last thing they’d want would be rumours of discord between them.

He heard heavy footsteps and then the door swung open. Minho stepped in, pushing past his mum roughly, hitting her in the shoulder. She was glaring holes into his back.

“I didn’t say you could come in,” his mum said acidly.

“Last time I checked, I live here too,” Minho replied coldly. His dad hovered uneasily on the stairs, a neutral bystander. That was how things usually went. His mum held the power and his dad just followed her commands. If you wanted peace in the house, that was the easiest way to maintain it.

“Why is all my stuff outside?” he said.

“I won’t have you in the house,” his mum said and there was anguish, upset in her voice. But not the kind you’d expect. Was she upset about forcing Minho out of the house? Oh no, never. Of course not. “You’ve betrayed me, your dad, yourself. We raised you to be the best of the best, an asset to the community. I worked and worked just to give back to you, expecting nothing in return. Who paid for your swimming class? Piano? Violin? Dance class? Taekwondo? Every one of our hard-earned pennies went to you.”

Minho was disgusted into silence, unable to speak. He feared he would vomit if he opened his mouth. He had no words, no rebuttal.

“And now you just tell us, you’re _gay._ You know it’s wrong! Are you doing this to spite us? You’re the fruit of our efforts. The culmination of our investment into you. You got into a good university with a good degree because of us. We set you up for a good life. But you have to tell us you’re _gay._ A pervert, a deviant. Tell me, Minho,” His mum exhaled.

For once Minho could see every wrinkle and all the age showing on her face. She seemed genuinely upset with him.

“I spent hours thinking to myself after you called us, where did we go wrong with you?” His mum said, lip curling. “We raised you so well. So it must be that boy corrupting you. Who is he? I didn’t know you’d been making friends with people like that.”

Minho had to bite down hard on his lip to stop himself blurting out that Hyunjin, who she so loved fawning over, was gayer than a rainbow. That Chan, whom she also revered as a model child, was a bisexual man with a boyfriend.

Then her eyes narrowed.

“It must be that friend of yours you brought over for Christmas. Han Jisung,” she spat, flecks of spit flying grotesquely form her mouth. “If I had known what he would do, I wouldn’t have let that perverted freak anywhere near my house, let alone inside…to think I fed and treated him so well-”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Minho ordered, eyes blazing. “Don’t you _dare_ speak about him like that. If you so much as say one more word, I will punch your teeth in. I don’t care if you’re my mother or not.”

“So it is him,” commented his mum snidely. “I’ll give you another chance, Minho. I have a proposal for you.”

He waited for it, expectations below the ground.

“Leave this nonsense about liking men behind you. This silly rebellious phase. We can pretend it never happened. Never talk to that boy again or speak of him. Does he even like you? Or have you been chasing him like a fool? Just forget about him. But if you insist on flaunting this kind of lifestyle and being so _open_ about it as well.” His mum’s expression hardened. “Then you can forget about living here. Being known as _our son._ ”

His vision filling with red as she spoke.

“I’m not evil, you know,” she continued. “We wouldn’t leave you out to dry. We’ll pay the rest of your university tuition and living expenses till you graduate. Then when you get a salary and start working, you can pay that back to us. We won’t even charge interest. I’ll tell everyone you’ve gone abroad, for your sake, I’ll protect your reputation.”

_What was she spewing?_

Minho could scarcely believe it.

“ _My reputation_?” he scoffed at her. “You think you’re making a huge sacrifice to protect me? It’s your own reputation you’re worried about. Now I’m not the perfect son for you, you’re just going to get rid of me like this? Did you ever love me, or just love the results I produced?”

His mum stared uncomprehendingly at him.

“You paid for all my classes sure, but I _got_ the results. I won those competitions and rankings and I was the one who took all the exams! I studied every day and got into medical school!” Minho carried on, shouting louder with each word. He no longer gave a shit if the neighbours heard, for fuck’s sake it was about time everyone just broke their illusion and stopped pretending.

“I can’t believe a bunch of grownups have to act like this, playing all these games with each other to drag others down, for what? For a bit of glory? I’m still your fucking son, nothing has changed, just the fact that I can be attracted to men!”

“So what?” he shouted into his mum’s face. “Does that make me unlovable to you now?”

God, he was so frustrated. He breathed deeply, exhausted from the outburst.

“I can’t love someone who goes against God. You might be related to me by blood, but your sin outweighs that.” His mum hissed in return.

“Don’t hide behind your religion!” retorted Minho deftly. His dad was still silently observing on the stairs. “God also says to love everyone and to forgive the sinners too! Pick a side, mum! I’ll fucking leave then if that’s what it takes to keep you goddamn happy!”

He kicked the door open so hard it ricocheted against the wall. He could imagine his mum’s thoughts, worrying about chipping the wall.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be the perfect child you wanted – because of course you’re a perfect woman, mother, wife, aren’t you?” he spat sarcastically, striding out the house. He couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her a second longer.

Next door’s auntie was standing at the doorstep, evidently getting an earful. Minho was sick of this stupid rivalry.

“Yeah,” he shot at her and she jumped in surprise, not expecting her eavesdropping to be caught as she was hidden away in the shadows. “Did you manage to hear it all? Why don’t you just come live in our house- I mean _their house_ like a bloody fly on the wall and report everything bad about us to the local gossip circle?”

She didn’t say anything, guilty expression clear as day. Minho’s mum also stared at her, unimpressed, as if she wouldn’t do the same thing herself.

“Isn’t it sad that you’re all like this?” Minho continued, knowing nothing would come out of it. Older people never listened. “All of you acting and judging and trying to one-up each other? Is there not more to life for you? Is it so hard to just enjoy life? Do you have to fight and compare and play mind games?”

“What are you saying?” scoffed the auntie indignantly, her permed curls shaking with fury. “How dare you! To think your parents raised such a son. A moral and sexual deviant!”

Minho rolled his eyes and laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed till tears were streaming down his face.

“You think you’re raising your children so much better? I’m sure you teach your kids to be so nice and polite, to always tell the truth and uphold justice. But what’s the point of that when all adults do is deceive and manipulate each other? Do we only teach our kids to be like that so they're easier for the adults to control?”

Those kids in fancy rich neighbourhoods would go on to become a younger version of their parents, having absorbed all their ideals and aspirations. They’d follow in their parent’s footsteps, become rich and snobby then do the exact same with their kids.

Either that or they’d become like Minho. At a certain point in life, they would begin to question why they were living like this, acting like this? Then they’d realise how twisted they were becoming. Some would overcome this and live a double life, doing what made them happy while also pleasing the parents – like Hyunjin. But for people like Minho, it would drive them crazy. The pressure would build till they imploded and they’d act out and ‘rebel’, becoming the black sheep of the family.

But none of them cared or understood.

The neighbour would then go back in and shut the door, no doubt telling the neighbourhood gossip chat that Lee Minho had finally lost it. He had gone crazy and was rebelling. Oh my, what a shocker. What a stain he was bringing to their family’s reputation. They would lose so much face, oh gosh, what possibly could have happened?

All over Minho getting a crush on a boy. It really wasn’t worth all this drama, was it? Was it so hard to his parents to live with it and pretend to keep loving him?

Thinking back to his own reaction to Hyunjin two years ago, Minho felt like he didn’t recognise that person anymore. If he met his past self, he would give them a good slap in the face like they deserved.

He no longer had a home in this town, did he? 

Minho hoped his dearest mother had been nice enough to pack his phone charger as well. And screw his dad. He hadn’t done any of the talking but his inaction had been enough to show where his loyalties laid. Always with his mum.

His mum was staring at the auntie who was still sounding off at Minho, with great disdain.

“He is no son of mine.”

The auntie only smirked at her audacity. “Don’t make me laugh. A child always learns from their parents. I wonder what is says about you if your child is a pervert.”

“If Minho’s a pervert, then so am I,” A voice behind Minho rang out, strong and confident.

“What?” said Minho’s mother, a look of immense shock crossing her face. The auntie’s jaw dropped open too.

Minho whipped around to see Hyunjin standing there in all his defiant glory. Why was he even here? And-

“What are you saying?” He hissed at Hyunjin. Why was Hyunjin willingly destroying his reputation here? It wasn’t just Hyunjin’s family that would suffer, it was Hyunjin himself. He was going to be a model, an actor – a public figure! He was ending his own career by doing this.

Hyunjin’s long blond hair, not tied back, billowed in the wind. He looked like a knight who had come to save the damsel in distress.

“What _are_ you saying, Hyunjin dear?” said Minho’s mum, in clear disbelief.

Across the streets, lights were turned on at the porch as other households opened their doors to see the cause of the racket this late at night. Some ladies appeared in dressing gowns, curlers in their hair, others having quickly thrown on their coat.

"What's going on?" called a woman. "We're all trying to sleep here."

“He’s joking,” said Minho quickly, ignoring the othets and casting a panicked look at Hyunjin.

Hyunjin shook his head and strode up to Minho, laying an arm across his shoulder.

“If Minho’s a pervert for liking a boy, then so am I,” He let out a lilting laugh as everyone immediately stared at him. “Actually, I’m even worse than him. I’ve been dating a boy for nearly three years.”

They watched the wineglass drop from the table and shatter to the floor. Hyunjin had just shattered everyone’s illusions about him as the town’s golden boy, their pride.

Gasps echoed around the street and furious chattering flared up, buzzing louder and louder like an angry swarm of bees.

"I guess it means I'm a super-pervert, right?" Hyunjin smiled fearlessly as if he wasn't breaking Minho's heart.

“Hyunjin, why are you doing this?” snarled Minho, shoving him backwards. “It’s not worth throwing your whole life away just to stick up for me!” Don't sacrifice your hard work for this. 

Hyunjin snorted.

“You’re an idiot, Minho. Of course it’s worth it.” He looked at the gobsmacked faces of all the neighbours on the street and gave them a regal wave. Their eyes were bulging in outrage. "It's not just about you though."

"What do you mean?" asked Minho. "Have you gone insane?"

Hyunjin stepped into his personal space, wrapping an arm around him again. This time, Minho didn't push him away.

“What you said was completely right. If society is in the wrong, why should I keep hiding like I’m committing a crime? I’m a member of society too. And society won’t change unless someone within it does something different and tries for change.”

“But it won’t change anything!” retorted Minho. “Everyone will just trample on you because you can’t get rid of their prejudice. It’s all pointless and now you've doomed yourself letting the whole world know.”

It was an admirable gesture of friendship but ultimately worthless in the end. The general public wouldn't take kindly to Hyunjin now.

“Then why did you do it?” asked Hyunjin, eyes gleaming as he stared intently. The moonlight was reflected in his pupils.

That was quite a curveball to throw at Minho. Why had he? At first it'd just been a way to prove the weight of his feelings to Jisung. And then it'd been about him taking control of his own identity because one day he would have to tell them. But was there anything else?

“Because I was sick of pretending I was perfect,” he admitted shakily. “That my life was going well. I was tired of being paraded around by my parents like pet that obeyed all their commands.”

Perhaps he had wanted his parents to see him for what he was - a broken puppet. Now the world could see his 'flaw', his parents had lost their greatest asset. Telling them was also a way of getting back at them. He was a broken puppet to them and predictably they'd cut the strings. Except Minho wasn't going to fall limply to the ground, he would embrace the freedom. The freedom of not being bound by the burden of perfection and everyone's expectations. His rivals were all waiting for him to step a toe out of line and here Minho was sprinting right past it. 

Perhaps even deeper down it was a twisted way to show them he wasn't okay and he'd been hurting. Look, Minho was saying to his parents, there's something 'wrong' with me that you never noticed because you never cared enough to notice. Because you never did, I turned out liking boys - I became the kind of person you hate. Look how you failed me. 

“Maybe I'm tired of pretending to be perfect too,” said Hyunjin, tossing his own words back at him. “Minho, maybe I’m being unrealistic but surely it’s better to do what I can, even if it’s small, then nothing at all?”

He could see all streetlamps shining down on the people huddled on their doorstep, their frenzied muttering.

“I always knew there was something wrong with that boy….”

“They were best friends, weren’t they? As they say, a bad apple spoils the rest…”

“Who knew their families were like this behind closed doors?”

There were sudden footsteps again, followed by a flurry of snow shifting behind them that sounded like a stampede of elephants were arriving. 

“Hyunjin!” Jeongin yelled, running up to them, skidding across the snow. “Babe, I am so proud of you.” He flung his arms around Hyunjin, almost knocking him off his feet.

Minho felt like the ground was sinking around him. His left eye twitched in disbelief.

“Babe?” The speculation echoed around the street. “His _boyfriend_?”

“Just for the record, I have a boyfriend too!” hollered another voice proudly. _Chan!_

Were they _all_ here? Had they all planned to follow him and group together to stick up for him or something? Even after knowing everything he had done, how he’d been in high school, they were willing to risk themselves like this?

For him?

A giant grin spread uncontrollably across his face and Minho held back another laugh, this time out of pure unadulterated joy.

Chan, Felix, Changbin, Seungmin, they were all here. Here to fight for him and support him. Even when he'd insisted on being alone. They wouldn't leave him alone even if he tried.

A warm hand slipped into his cold clammy one.

Jisung. Wonderful lovely Han Jisung.

“ _You_!” seethed Minho’s mum, breaking out of her startled silence. “You did this to my Minho! You're going to hell-”

“Shut up!” bellowed Minho, liquid courage coursing through him. Knowing everyone had his back was enough for this spectacle to seem like nothing. “If I never met Jisung, I would have killed myself by now!”

Dead silence fell over the street. His mum gaped at him, choking on air. His dad was still hidden on the staircase, staying out of it, being a bystander.

“Um, you never told me that,” whispered Jisung beside him, squeezing his hand. “We should really talk after this.”

"We should," agreed Minho. They hadn't figured out their relationship either.

Seungmin stepped forward. Minho wondered what on earth he was going to do now. Announce that he was gay too? Minho actually had no idea about what Seungmin’s sexuality even was.

Ridiculously, he pulled a loudspeaker out from behind him. It crackled with static as he cleared his throat into it.

“Under the National Human Rights Commission of Korea, in the National Human Rights Commission Act, sexual orientation is explicitly stated as protected characteristic.” He drawled, sounding almost bored.

“So?” called back a random man from across the street. He looked well-dressed in his long black coat, although striped pyjamas trousers peeked out from below it. “The NHRCK is an independent organisation that’s separate from the government. The South Korean anti-discrimination law doesn’t protect against that.”

“That’s because bigots like you keep preventing the anti-discrimination law being passed,” said Seungmin into the loudspeaker. And as if that made discrimination acceptable. “You’re not completely right. Fifteen local governments have passed anti-discrimination laws that include sexual orientation.”

“Pah,” responded the same man. Perhaps he was a lawyer. “There are two hundred and twenty-six local governments in Korea. A measly fifteen means nothing.”

“Well if you know so much about law,” snapped back Seungmin, “Then you’d know that one of the government subdivisions with this law is Chungcheongbuk-do, which is where we are right now. So maybe all of you should watch your mouths before I sue you for discrimination.”

The man was silenced into defeat, as were the others. Seungmin's words wouldn't change their beliefs or shake their prejudice, but scaring them would at least shut them up.

Felix marched up and snatched the loudspeaker from Seungmin. His fluffy coat made him look like a chick but his face was a stony as an Easter Island head.

“The show’s over,” he said menacingly, his deep voice one octave lower than usual. He sounded positively demonic. “Why don’t you go back in enjoy the rest of your holiday?”

They were sweet words but the underlying threat was very clear.

_Leave before I make you._

Very quickly, everyone was back in their homes although their ears were probably still pressed against the door.

Minho’s mum still stood in the doorway, looking as if she didn’t know what to say. His dad was nowhere to be seen. He probably hadn’t wanted to endure the humiliation.

“Ma’am,” said Changbin coldly to her. “With all respect, fuck you.” His glare was enough to kill. A weaker woman than Minho’s mother would have cowered from the force of it.

“Your son was a literal child prodigy and he’s going to become a doctor. He’s a very good person, far better than me, and daresay half the people in this town. I hope you can look past your unfortunate prejudices and see that.”

The door was slammed in their faces without a response.

It was just them now.

Seungmin tutted.

“It’s fine,” said Minho. “I had expected as much.”

Then he turned to everyone.

“I’m so sorry you had to do all that for me,” He bowed deeply to them, face burning. “I’ve made you all into outcasts along with me.”

“You didn’t make any of us do it,” Seungmin scoffed. “As if you could ever make me do anything. We did this because we wanted to. So don’t apologise.”

“You inspired us actually,” said Hyunjin, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Originally Jisung got us to follow you because he was worried about your safety but then you came out with all this amazing rhetoric and I couldn’t hold back.”

“Don’t be so worried about us being outcasts either,” said Jisung seriously. “There aren’t as many homophobes in this town as you think. It’s mostly the Christians. My family isn’t. Neither are Chan’s or Felix’s or Seungmin’s.”

“My dad isn’t either,” added Jeongin. “This one street doesn’t represent all of Korea. None of us regret this. We didn't want you to face this alone.”

“You guys,” choked out Minho, his voice wavering dangerously. “Don’t make me cry again, I can’t handle that again.”

“Shall we pick your stuff up then?” said Jisung, gesturing to the soggy boxes on the lawn. “I can drive my dad’s car…he’s not here to see me do it anyway.”

They could pick his stuff up, but put it where?

“Is it okay if I stay with you for now?” he said tentatively. Jisung’s jaw dropped for a split second.

“Duh,” said Jisung, sounding exasperated. “You didn’t have to ask! I was about to offer anyway. My parents are still in the States and I didn’t want to intrude at Chan’s for that long so I was just about to head home.”

“What would I do without you,” said Minho soppily, trying to lighten the mood.

Jisung turned the same colour as a boiled lobster.

“Changbin!” he demanded.

Changbin appeared on command, looking cautious at the sight of Minho, expression schooled but it dropped at the suitcase.

“Ah…”

“Go and get my car and drive it over so we can put Minho’s stuff there. My house is closest. He’s gonna stay with me for now,” ordered Jisung. “It’s the least you can do after beating him up.”

“Sure, sure,” Changbin shrugged and he started walking immediately, looking embarrassed. Felix dashed after him.

It took about over an hour for the eight of them to pack Changbin’s car with Minho’s belongings. A lot of things had to be repacked as the cardboard boxes were disintegrating before their eyes.

When everything had been jammed into the boot of the car as well as the back seats, everyone beside Minho, Jisung and Changbin took their leave.

“We’ll just walk back to my place,” said Chan, “Don’t worry about us, Minho. Take care of yourself first.”

Jisung got in the front seat as Changbin drove and Minho squeezed himself into the back. The roads were pretty icy so they went along at a snail’s pace.

“If people ask, can I say you’re my boyfriend now?” said Jisung. “My parents won’t care.”

“If you have nothing to lose,” said Minho, resigned. “Do your worst.”

Luckily, there was no crowd gathered around his house to watch Minho unload his belongings, wet and hodge-podge into the lobby of Jisung’s home. The real damage was already spreading via text.

“Your mum is the fucking Devil,” said Changbin, as they gathered everything from the car and carried it in. “Putting out cardboard boxes when they’d obviously break and get soggy. What a bitch.”

“That’s funny considering how far she is up God’s ass,” sniggered Minho. “You should tell her. Although I’m pretty impressed you told her to go fuck herself.”

There was some protective barrier in his mind, preventing him from thinking the worst about the situation. Here he was, cracking jokes about his parents basically kicking him out and cutting him off. And how they were definitely going to become the talk of the town. Even if it their discrimination was illegal, kicking him out wasn’t. Minho was an adult and his parents could always claim it was for another reason. They weren’t legally required to support Minho through university. He was already privileged because they paid his tuition and living costs straight up. He could just take out a student loan like what other normal students like Jisung did and get a job if he needed extra. He could survive it.

Plus, Minho wasn’t sure he could hold a civil conversation with his mum again.

It still felt like Minho was in the middle of a hidden camera prank. He was waiting for the host to jump out and reveal the elaborate prank designed to make him lose his sanity.

Jisung’s house was absolutely freezing until Jisung finally located the central heating. Changbin had dutifully finished unloading all of Minho’s belongings carefully in the doorway while Minho unpacked his suitcase upstairs and left with a simple ‘goodnight’. 

“Will he be okay walking back?” said Minho, just in case. It seemed a bit harsh on him after helping them carry all that stuff.

“Minho, he literally bent your nose out of shape and mushed your face to a pulp but you’re _worried_ he’ll be cold?” said Jisung indignantly. “You really don’t know how to hold a grudge, do you?”

“I suppose not,” said Minho slowly. “It hasn’t hit me – the whole parent business. Trust me, I’m gonna be a mess when reality hits. I’m still worried about how we’ll be treated from now on.”

The jumble of miscellaneous things would be sorted out tomorrow as Jisung’s parents were only coming back on New Year’s Eve.

Once in bed, Jisung’s bed, Minho was finally able to check his phone after charging it. His expectations weren’t far off, notifications full of confused and rambling messages from his mother. But a notification from his dad caught his eye.

His dad wasn’t really the texting type, he preferred to call. Well, Minho had about fifty missed calls from both of them. As he read his dad’s messages, Jisung slid under the covers with him, brushing Minho with his ice-cold feet.

_Minho, don’t come home. Stay put with your friends if you can. Mum can’t handle the news right now so if there’s time, I can get her to calm down and come around. Don’t escalate the situation further if you can. Minho, your dad doesn’t care who love. It might not have been obvious because I just let your mum do the talking but it doesn’t matter to me._

Hot tears ran down his face.

Jisung looped an arm around his shoulder, snuggling close.

“What is it?” he said softly.

Minho waved his phone at him.

“My dad,” he said grittily. “He doesn’t care. I-it was just my mum.”

It appeared all was not lost.

“That’s great,” Jisung beamed up at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m happy for you. Not being sarcastic.

“I know,” muttered Minho. “But what about all of you? You all did that for no reason now.”

“Hey,” Jisung said sternly. “For the nth time, none of us regret it. It’s about time someone spoke up about how toxic they all are.”

“I suppose,” agreed Minho reluctantly but he still felt pretty bad about it.

His dad had texted again, after the giant row they’d caused.

_I guess you didn’t see my text. I can’t make any promises but I’ll try my best to get Mum to come around. But I have to correct you on some things. Mum does love you and want the best for you. Our reputation isn’t everything, even if it’s very important to us. That’s how people our age were brought up to be. I’m sure your generation will be different. Your friends proved that tonight. But Minho, we’ve never been able to tell you’re having a hard time or that you were pretending. I guess we’re not the good parents we thought we are. But you never told us either. It’s hard for us to help if you don’t come to us._

There were a few minutes gap between this message and the next one.

_I’m sorry I wasn’t a father you could come to for help._

Minho wasn’t sure what to make of the last two, they felt half-apologetic and half-accusing and semi-defensive at the same. Whatever, he was exhausted. He would deal with it tomorrow.

“Are we going to sleep now?” whispered Jisung when Minho set his phone back down. “Happy first day anniversary, I guess.”

Minho let out a small smile and hugged Jisung closer. It hadn’t been the best day but it certainly hadn’t been the worst either. Jisung was in his arms, wasn’t he? He prayed the morning would bring better news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't know shit about law, I got all my info off Wikipedia. 
> 
> Just saying, I really really love the poem at the beginning of the chapter and it reflects this chapter very well I think!
> 
> Penultimate chapter! Also the longest one so far...I rewrote half of it because I changed the plot again.
> 
> To all my lovely readers praising me for realism (<3), I felt like this chapter was very cheesy and dramatic (guess who got into kdramas recently) and pretty unrealistic but still very satisfying I hope?? I desperately needed to vent about how mad some stuff makes me and Minho was the perfect vessel for me to project into haha. 
> 
> The last chapter should be out within two weeks as I'm full-time studying again. Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me!
> 
> Edit: As for Jisung and Minho making up, idc if my reasoning made sense and i hope it didn't feel like Minho let Jisung off too easy...I do hope everyone redeems themselves :O I'm always apprehensive about what you guys think cos it's such a sensitive topic


	19. Today's A Present That I Don't Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grainy grey darkness unearths the scenery,  
> as we sat on the way home, shrubbery blurring past us.  
> A day’s end. A day’s death.  
> The faint light that skims past the storm clouds is a little woeful,  
> But can’t shake the calm content of knowing home is where you’re headed.  
> A little sentimental. A little reminiscent.  
> A familiar crunch of gravel, a gentle scrape of tarmac.  
> The wonderful finality of climbing into your bed, a long day has passed.  
> I didn’t understand before, but now I regret how a child’s simplicity escaped me,  
> Ignorance truly is bliss.  
> \- Coming Home, by me (haha)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning - mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts
> 
> Also there's some sexy scenes ahead!

There was a lot of mulling over to be done. Two big things had occurred in one day, one good, one bad.

The morning was spent sorting Minho’s belongs and organising them into _plastic_ boxes. Jisung had agreed to store them in there for the foreseeable future, which Minho thought was very generous of him, although Jisung begged to differ.

“It’s nothing, you idiot!” he’d said, then slapped Minho on the shoulder.

The speed at which Minho and Jisung had begun acting like a sickening lovey-dovey couple was also a surprise to Minho. In fact, he’d shocked himself at the pure cheesiness of his actions. Acting all shy and cutesy together, cuddling and touching Jisung just because he could. He was every bit like those nauseating couples on campus you rolled your eyes at.

It was like this bridge had been crossed and Minho could openly be embarrassing with Jisung without feeling well, embarrassed. He could act all gooey and cute and although it was cringy, he was too happy to care.

Was that what love did to someone?

_Love?_

As much as Minho accepted his newfound feelings, it didn’t stop him waking up and having the shock of his life to see Jisung next to him every morning, with fewer clothes on than they’d went to bed in to begin with.

It continued in that rosy way, the late morning sun having broken through the grey clouds to begin melting the snow and letting the ugly dirty tarmac emerge from its white blanket once again. The world would lose its winter magic and return to its drab, dreary days.

Jisung nuzzled into against the naked skin of Minho’s back, wrapping his arms around him.

“Hey,” he mumbled, sleep still caught in his throat. Jisung pressed little kisses down Minho’s back, making him stiffen like a board.

“That okay?”

“Y-yeah,” said Minho, “Just took me by surprise.”

When Minho relaxed and remembered that it was okay, that he was allowed to be like this, then he could enjoy it, Jisung returned to his fun, hot breath gusting over Minho’s skin.

That was when Minho turned around so they could face each other and kissed Jisung, morning breath, puffy eyes and all. Tufts of Jisung’s hair stuck upwards in the most adorable way and Minho pushed a hand through them, messing it up further.

They had done more than sleep in the bed last night, as overenthusiastic as newlyweds. The house was empty and Jisung had insisted on using this opportunity to the fullest. 

The kissing turned heated as Jisung eagerly ground his crotch against Minho’s, the friction making both of them exhale sharply.

“Aren’t your parents coming home today?” said Minho sleepily, although his nether regions were wide awake.

“They’re flying back in the evening,” said Jisung, snaking a hand into Minho’s pants. “We have a _lot_ of time.”

He gave Minho a greasy smirk.

“You are not the smooth guy you think you are,” groaned Minho, from the greasy smirk but also Jisung swiping his thumb over the head of Minho’s dick. “Shit, that’s good.”

“It’s good to be young,” commented Jisung, already tugging Minho’s pyjama trousers down till they were mid-thigh. “Always ready to go.”

“You’re making me feel like I’m talking to a grandpa here,” Minho complained but still tugged Jisung insistently towards him for a kiss.

He hovered over Minho on all fours, not embarrassed in the slightest at the fact he was totally naked. Yeah, the pyjamas had come off a while ago. Jisung lowered his head and produced a series of obscene slurping noises, making Minho’s mind go blissfully blank.

“Oh my god,” groaned Minho, entranced by the sight of Jisung’s slick-swollen lips on him and the warm, wet heat of his mouth. An embarrassingly high-pitched noise escaped from him.

When he came down from his high and watched Jisung swallow thickly with a self-satisfied grin, Minho gestured at Jisung’s crotch, a dark spot spreading against the fabric which was pulled taut against his boner.

“Shall I return the favour?”

Jisung swallowed nervously for someone who had been sucking dick like the world was ending.

“Actually, I wasn’t sure about asking but do you want to try…fucking?” He backtracked immediately at Minho’s flabbergasted face. “We don’t have to! If that’s going too fast, but just asking in case you’re um…ready?”

“You’re so cute,” Minho said to Jisung genuinely, who spluttered like a fish out of water, two bright spots on his cheeks. “I’m up for it.” They’d been working up to it at least in the past few days.

“Uh, so how do you want to do this?” said Jisung and he got up and rifled through his bedside drawer, producing lube and condoms.

“I’ll bottom,” Minho volunteered and he heaved himself out of bed to the toilet. He had just woken up and figured it would be better to empty his bowels to avoid any ‘accidents’.

“Really?” squawked Jisung, “I know you had that drunk one-night stand with a guy but I thought you would want to top. I don’t have a preference in this area, anyway.”

“I bottomed that time as well,” said Minho. “The dude was pretty experienced so I figured he’d prep me well. And it was easier to lie there and take it.”

“You _what_?” Then Jisung seemed to recover from the shock of it all and settled back into his usual demeanour. 

“I’ll have to make you work for it this time,” said Jisung with another greasy wink.

It was fairly obvious what most of the morning was spent doing after Minho returned from the toilet and launched himself onto Jisung.

“If this is cowboy position, does it make you a cow?” said Minho, after sinking down onto Jisung. The sensation of being filled up made him a little fuzzy in the head. Faint memories of Ten came to mind but he quickly pushed those away

“Oh my god,” whined Jisung, eyes squeezed shut. “Why are you saying this now? Just…oh fuck!”

Minho had tried to get used to the feeling and clenched down on him.

After Jisung regained the use of speech, he wrinkled his brow thoughtfully.

“What you said doesn’t even make sense,” he said to Minho, who kept interrupting with short sharp exhalations. “It’s not like the cowboy has sex with a cow. _Fuck, you feel so good._ If you’re a cowboy, _hnngh,_ doesn’t that make me a horse? Don’t cowboys ride horses?”

Minho groaned as Jisung slid into him at a deeper angle. He loved being able to see Jisung under him, looking flushed and undone.

“But cowboys don’t have sex with their horses either,” he said through clenched teeth, trying to keep his voice steady. This had to be one of the weirdest conversations Minho had ever had. A serious discussion of the etymology of certain sex positions.

Jisung cursed as Minho leant forwards to put his mouth over Jisung’s neck and then lower, to his chest. But bending over like that was making Minho’s back hurt so he stopped.

“This is tiring as hell,” he said after a few minutes of riding Jisung. Raising his hips over and over was really doing a number on his knees. “Can we change position now? It’s your go to do some work.”

“Wait a sec,” said Jisung, sliding out of Minho and Minho shivered as cold air rushed over his backside. He pulled out his phone, making Minho frown.

“The hell?” he said indignantly. “I’m literally lying here, naked and ready and you’re going on your phone?”

Jisung shook his head and made a frustrated noise. He was on Wikipedia, scrolling rapidly.

“OK! The cowgirl position name comes from how a cowgirl rides on a bucking horse. The more you know.” Then he tossed the phone off the bed where it landed on the carpet with a dull thud. “That doesn’t make much sense either. I guess it’s more about the movement.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you. Now come _here,_ you lazy bitch.” He spread his legs to give Jisung a better view of what was waiting. Jisung took the bait instantly, licking his lips.

“I’ll show you lazy,” he muttered and then thrust into Minho with the hip action of a seasoned porn-star. True to his word, he fucked the dear life out of Minho, till Minho was moaning and drooling uncontrollably all over the pillow. It was comfortable and domestic and just very sexy. Here he was having sex with his best friend _but_ they were also a couple. It was ridiculously casual and pressure-free, unlike any other relationship Minho had. Not that he’d been in many actual serious relationships.

“Minho, I’m gonna-” breathed Jisung, his thrusts becoming erratic. “You feel so good, I can’t hold back anymore.”

Minho just whined in response, incapable of forming words, breathing heavily. Jisung slipped out of him shortly after, tying the condom and dumping it in the bin.

“You haven’t come yet,” said Jisung, looking dismayed. “Sorry about that.”

Minho shrugged. “It’s just because I wasn’t touching myself at the same time. I wanted to see if I could come hands-free.”

“I’ll work on my technique,” said Jisung, so seriously Minho held back a laugh.

“Your technique’s already more than enough,” said Minho. “You think I was making those noises because I was bored?” He lazily pumped himself a few times, watching Jisung eye him hungrily.

“I can, you know,” said Jisung. “Come hands-free. It happened once before.”

“Shit, we can try it next time,” said Minho. “But come and help me out for now.”

“I don’t think I can get hard that fast again,” Jisung looked panicked.

“Not that, I just need your fingers.” Minho finally reached his peak, crying out hard as he stroked himself, Jisung’s fingers inside him.

They laid on the bed for a few minutes, fucked-out and warm until Minho decided he’d had enough of Jisung’s armpit sweat wafting across his face. There was only so much post-coital cuddling he could handle.

He pushed Jisung’s arm off him and rolled over, so his head was resting on Jisung’s chest.

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me but do I know the person you hooked up with?” said Jisung. “I’m just really curious. I won’t be jealous or anything but I’m nosy as hell.”

Minho hummed, debating over what to say.

“You don’t have to worry about him. Pretty sure he’s taken now.” Ten and Kun had seemed pretty happy together.

“I wouldn’t let him make a single move on my man anyway,” pouted Jisung, reaching out to hold Minho’s hand in what Minho found to be an incredibly cute gesture.

“I don’t think you could win against him,” laughed Minho. “I’ll tell you, okay?”

“Really?” exclaimed Jisung, almost sitting up in shock.

“It was Ten.”

“Oh ok,” said Jisung. Then his eyes widened like saucers. “Did you just say _TEN_? As in the Ten from LGBT soc? The Ten we saw at ice-skating? The Ten who I wanted to strangle for the way he was looking at you when you two were talking because you looked lowkey flustered?”

“Uh yeah,” replied Minho, dumbfounded. “The one and only.” He combed back through his memories to the ice rink. Jisung had been…jealous then?

“Hold on, you’ve liked me since then?” he shrieked. That was earlier then Minho had expected.

“Well, that was the last straw and I admitted it to myself then,” Jisung said then went back to ramling. “Wait, I’m still shook. You and Ten, _oh my god_! So that was why he was acting all smug back then, doing that weird little standoff with me. God, when I next see him I am going to kick him right in the balls-that smug little bastard-”

“Didn’t someone say they weren’t going to be jealous,” teased Minho. “But when did you first realise you liked me then?”

“At the party when I decided I was gonna kiss you for truth-or-dare,” said Jisung distractedly, still fixated on Ten. “I’m not jealous! Ten is super hot too. Not that I’d fuck him _well_ –”

“You decided to kiss me?” shrieked Minho again. “I thought you were forced to!”

“No, I just realised then I didn’t want any of them getting to kiss you,” said Jisung. “Oh man, it’s been longer than I thought.”

“I can’t believe I never noticed,” muttered Minho. He had been too busy freaking out about the fact he had feelings for Jisung to notice said feelings towards him.

“Ten is so lucky and he doesn’t even know it,” said Jisung darkly. “Not that he’s ever getting a piece of this-” He proceeded to smack Minho’s butt. “-again.”

Minho chuckled and decided to let it go.

“It means my boyfriend pulls super sexy people,” declared Jisung. “Like me.”

“I don’t know,” frowned Minho jokingly. “I think I’ve downgraded.”

“Lee Minho!” screeched Jisung in betrayal. “How can you say that above your man? I’m breaking up with you right now!

“Yeah yeah go on then,” said Minho dismissively and he got off the bed, starting to feel icky at the fact his skin was going crusty. “Have fun trying.”

“That’s not how it works!” protested Jisung. “Say sorry! Admit I’m the sexiest man you’ve ever met!”

Ignoring Jisung’s whining, Minho made his way to the shower. After they were all clean and freshened up, there really wasn’t time to do anything besides clean up the mess they had made, just in time for Jisung’s parents to come home.

Jisung had skipped happily off to his parents who each trapped him in a bear hug. Minho had watched with a bland smile, envy curling in his gut at the easy way Jisung spoke with them and the casual way he introduced Minho.

“This is my boyfriend and flatmate Minho,” declared Jisung proudly, looping an arm around Minho’s face. He cocked his head at Minho’s spaced-out frown. “Sorry, he’s not normally like this.”

“Uh, I’m sorry,” mumbled Minho red-faced. Where were his manners? “Thank you for letting me stay here for the past few days, it’s very hospitable of you.”

Jisung’s dad beamed widely at him.

“It’s no worry at all, we weren’t even here!” he said in a booming voice. “But son, when did this happen?”

It was lucky that Minho’s bruises had faded enough to be covered up with makeup so he didn’t have to answer any questions about his face.

“Actually, just a few days ago,” Jisung explained, “Christmas magic, I suppose?”

“Well Minho,” Jisung’s mum said gently. “We’re very glad Jisung’s found someone who puts him in such a good mood. You’re welcome here anytime.”

The rest of the day was spent helping Jisung’s parents unpack and helping them make dinner for New Year’s Eve.

Minho was jealous every time he saw Jisung with his parents. They took an interest in Jisung Minho had never felt from his own parents. When Jisung waffled about his music projects, they listened with genuine interest and asked questions. When Jisung brought up the documentaries he’d watched, again they actually seemed to care and respond. There wasn’t any patronisation, talking down to Jisung and calling his interests a waste of time.

“I feel awfully bad for making you help out with all this cleaning,” Jisung’s mum said to Minho as they took several boxes up to the loft together. Jisung was in the kitchen with his dad, facetiming his sister.

“It’s no problem at all!” Minho replied quickly. “I haven’t been doing much these few days anyway.” He passed the boxes up to Jisung’s mum dutifully and patiently waited for her to lock the loft door again.

Jisung’s mum looked at him intently.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to give you that cliched cheesy old talk.”

Minho blinked at him, lost. Not the _sex talk_?

“The one where if you hurt Jisung intentionally or mess with him, you will be facing consequences for your actions.”

Oh. The overprotective parent threat was what she meant.

“I’ve already hurt Jisung,” said Minho truthfully. “I’m still doing my best to make up for it. I’ll make it up to him every day for the rest of my life.”

Jisung’s mum stared at him a little then burst out in laughter, leaving Minho rather nonplussed.

“The rest of your life? Ha, you’re getting ahead of yourself, don’t you think?” she chortled, ruffling Minho’s hair. “But I appreciate what you’re saying. I’m glad you treasure Jisung as much as I do.”

That was when Minho’s bottom lip had started wobbling.

“I worry about that child when he’s away. He’s so confident at home that it’s easy to forget he can get so anxious about things. So I’m glad there’s someone looking out for him when I can’t.”

That was the nail in the coffin and Minho began blubbering, much to his horror. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks unbidden. It hurt to hear how much Jisung’s family clearly adored him, the fact that he had parents who looked out for him that way when his own mum in contrary…

“Oh darling,” breathed Jisung’s mum when she noticed Minho pressing his lips tightly together to stop his tears. “Come here.”

She wrapped Minho in the kind of hug only a mother could give. Although Jisung’s mother was small and wispy with greying hair, she felt like a sturdy pillar Minho could cling onto. She didn’t pry or ask why Minho was crying, but she patted his hair and waited till he was composed and his eyes no longer red.

“Now let’s go back down. They’ll be wondering what we’ve been getting up to.”

When Jisung’s parents began making dinner and finally excused Jisung and Minho, the pair of them shot upstairs. As soon as the door was shut, Jisung pounced on Minho.

“I am so sorry you had to spend all day helping us with chores. You’re meant to be a guest!”

“I insisted on helping, it’s nothing.” Minho said with a yawn. It had been tiring though.

“I’ve been wanting to grab your ass all day without my parents watching,” whispered Jisung.

Minho smacked Jisung on the ass.

“You dirty imp.”

“Oh master, harder!” pleaded Jisung in a high-pitched voice, sending Minho into a fit of laughter with him.

“I’m so glad I have you,” said Minho, sitting down on the bed.

They watched the cars drive past in the street, barely visible as pinpricks of light.

“You’re making me all shy bro,” Jisung snorted. “But me too.”

“Your parents are so nice,” Minho said slowly, changing the tone to something serious. “I wish I wasn’t jealous of you but…I can’t help it.”

Jisung didn’t comment, which he was grateful for.

Where they were sitting, he felt a warm weight settled on his shoulder as Jisung leaned into him. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the room and it was oddly comforting for the only light to be from outside, walled off from the world. At the same time, some part of him ached horribly and the tears he’d just swallowed down threatened to rise again.

“Hey Minho, you know what you said to your mum that night?” said Jisung carefully. “I didn’t want to bring it up but I think we should talk about it.”

“That I would have killed myself if I hadn’t met you?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry if it’s making you feel pressured. I think I worded it too heavy in that moment.” Minho gave Jisung a watery smile. “It’s not like I’ll go jump off the nearest building if you’re not here.”

He cleared his throat.

“What I mean is you’re not responsible for keeping me alive.” He didn’t want Jisung to feel entitled to take care of his mental health.

“That’s not it,” chided Jisung gently. “I know you can take care of yourself. It’s more how I never noticed things felt that bad for you. I mean, I knew you weren’t doing that good but…could you just explain more what you meant by that?”

The exhilaration that coursed through Minho as the wind ruffled his hair. The giddiness in his veins as he stared at the pavement four floors below him came back to him.

“I was seriously considering it at some point,” he said. “I would sit on the ledge of my window and wondered if I should jump off. And then we became really good friends and I started liking you. And you also got me other friends so I wasn’t as alone. Things got a lot better. I never had anyone I could talk about stuff like this too before. So what I meant was if I never met you and my life never ended up like this, things could have gone differently. I might have lost to my thoughts in the end. So thanks, I guess.” He let out an awkward laugh.

“I’m so glad we were assigned as flatmates then,” said Jisung shakily. They leant backward so they were lying on the bed together. Minho realised Jisung was crying. “I don’t believe in God but fate or something must have been working in your favour otherwise we might have never met.”

That set off the waterworks for Minho too.

“I am too,” he sniffled as Jisung started noisily sobbing into his arms. “I’m so glad you put up with all my bullshit and didn’t give up on me,”

“I almost did though,” sobbed Jisung, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “Thank god for Seungmin. And thank you, Minho. Even though you were hurting, you never gave up on living. So thank you for being so strong.”

Now they were both crying like fools, just bawling into each other’s chests as they laid there on the bed.

“Don’t thank me for that,” Minho snivelled. “I should have tried to get help or something but I just kept ignoring it.”

“We can talk about that later. It’s not always helpful though,” Jisung wiped at his eyes, hopefully not with the same sleeve he’d wiped his nose with. “I had a therapist for anxiety once but I literally tried eight different ones. It’s still really fucking difficult to find people who are actually helpful for you. Sometimes I felt like it wasn’t worth the hassle.”

“Why are you so understanding about everything?” Minho positively wailed into Jisung’s collarbones. “No wonder I’m so in love with you.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Hold up,” said Jisung. “Say that again.”

“I’m not saying it again,” Minho said, voice muffled. The mortification threatened to eat him alive. “It just slipped out.” He reached out to the bedside table and grabbed a couple of tissues without looking and passed them out between them.

“And stop wiping your nose on your sleeve, it’s gross.” Jisung blew his nose, leaving Minho slightly mollified.

“I love you too babe,” said Jisung. “Now you can say it back.”

“I love you,” mumbled Minho, feeling like his face would explode with the heat being generated. How was it he could be totally naked with Jisung and get him off without a trace of embarrassment but saying these three words took so much effort.

For the remaining time, they waited for Jisung’s parents to call them down for dinner in a companiable silence. If their eyes were red, no one asked why.

*

It was New Year’s Eve today. Minho woke up next to Jisung, now used to the sight of it. His heart no longer jumped into his mouth every time he woke up. Those little announcements of _oh shit you’re gay_ had become less intense, although they popped up now and then.

His father hadn’t messaged Minho yet and neither had his mum. Minho wondered how they were faring. The neighbours must all know by now. Perhaps their annual New Year party would have to be cancelled. Or would they press through amidst the scandal and make up an excuse for him? Either way, Minho found himself caring less as Jisung ambled back into the room after brushing his teeth, smiling at him with such happiness Minho’s heart cooed.

It would be best to give his parents space to think things through and decide what they would do. Minho would stop worrying about them and enjoy what was left of his holidays. Hyunjin’s parents were throwing a formal kind of New Year’s party so that was where he and Jisung would be heading in the evening, having received an invitation from Hyunjin to save him from having to talk to all the middle-aged couples alone. Hyunjin would spend the first two hours greeting all the guests then the plan was for the three of them to sneak over to Felix’s, where the real party was taking place.

“Do your parents know about me?” Minho asked Hyunjin over the phone. “About me getting kicked out?”

“Oh boy do they know.” said Hyunjin with a laugh. “But they were too busy worrying about me and Jeongin. They weren’t as shocked as I thought about everything anyway. I think they’d been fretting over how to bring it up with me for a while. Mum’s not happy but it was more because she was worried about how I’d get treated.”

The story of them had spread around town – Jeongyeon had asked Minho about it too. To his surprise, it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. Some people had stared when him and Jisung had gone on a walk with his parents but that was as much as it’d got. No outright outrage had directed at them. The rumours were still flowing though, he was certain.

“That’s good,” said Minho, relieved for his friend. “The people at the party won’t look at you weird or anything, right?”

“I think my mum would kick them straight out,” Hyunjin replied. “She might think being gay is wrong but she hates people being mean to me even more. It’s a weird balance but I think they’ll get over it. At the end of the day, your child’s still your child. Parents would kill for their kids. I said that to them and I think it helped put things in perspective.”

“So they won’t care?”

“Trust me,” snorted Hyunjin. “They’ll barely notice you’re there. They might even say hi to you and completely forget about it later. Wait, scratch that. They were a little worried about where you were staying now and told me I should’ve offered. I don’t they care about you having a boyfriend as much as they care about mine.”

“That’s a relief.”

“I’ll see you then, Hyuni,” said Minho. He’d slipped back to that old nickname lately. It allowed him some comfort to hold onto something from long ago.

“Fuck, wait. I think your parents are coming too?”

“They’re _what?_ ” Minho was surprised they’d go out after all the talk about them. “I can’t let them see me. My mum might skin me alive. Shit. Anyway, I’ll see you.”

“You too, Lee Know,” replied Hyunjin with a light laugh. That was Hyunjin’s old nickname for Minho. Because he was an insufferable know-it-all.

“You call Hyunjin _Hyuni_?” said Jisung, aghast. He’d been playing games while Minho called Hyunjin, half-listening in.

“I used to,” shrugged Minho, “Just felt like using it again.”

“Don’t I get a special nickname?” pouted Jisung.

“I can’t think of anything to do with you name.” Jisung already had loads of nicknames given to him by the others. “Don’t people call you Sungie or Hannie already?”

“Well, if Hyunjin gets one, so should I,” said Jisung then he went to sit in the corner of the room, all sulky.

Minho laughed and went to sit down next to Jisung.

“What about Jiji?” he said, biting back a laugh as Jisung let out a ‘humph’. “Come on, babe.”

The term of endearment made Jisung flush but he still stuck his tongue out when Minho tried to lean in and kiss him.

“Jiji sounds stupid as fuck. It makes me sound like your pet gerbil,” grumbled Jisung but he was holding back a smirk now.

“What, that’s not good enough?” said Minho in mock hurt, pressing a palm to his chest. “How about Alvin…because you look like a chipmunk?”

“It’s not a chipmunk, it’s a bloody _squirrel_ ,” insisted Jisung. “I look nothing like those animated abominations. A squirrel or a quokka. Not a bloody chipmunk.” He was holding back a laugh now, shoulders shaking with the effort to keep serious. He wasn’t actually mad at Minho.

“I’m just gonna call you bitch-baby because that’s how you’re acting right now,” said Minho teasingly.

“Oh yeah, speak for yourself,” returned Jisung. “You still gonna call me that when I fuck your brains out?”

Low blow, low blow. Heat gathered in the pit of Minho’s stomach.

“Can’t I just call you ‘babe’ and be done with it?” Minho laid back, planting his head in Jisung’s lap, reaching up to pinch Jisung’s cheek. “Jisung baby, sweetheart, honey. My sexy man.”

“Okay, I give in,” said Jisung and he began squishing Minho’s cheeks too, pushing them in till Minho’s lips were puckered like a fish then stretching them out again. “You’re too cute.”

“Me? You looked cute as hell sulking in the corner.”

“We’re both cute, gosh.”

Minho’s phone alarm went off before they could descend into an impassioned frenzy.

“We have to get going to Hyunjin’s now.”

It was only five o’clock but the sky was already dark. Jisung’s parents gave them a lift as they too were invited to Hyunjin’s. The journey in the car was a little stuffy and mildly terrifying as the car slid on the road in the icier parts. Thankfully, they made it to Hyunjin’s house in one piece.

“Mum, if we don’t get back, that’s because we’re spending the night with the other guys!” said Jisung, “So don’t worry if you don’t see us again.”

Jisung’s mum rolled her eyes.

“You’re nearly twenty years old, I’m not worried about where you spend the night. In fact, I’d rather you go to someone else’s house to make a mess instead of bringing them back to ours.”

There were a million cars outside Hyunjin’s house, along their driveway and all the way up the road. Some gold and silver balloons were stuck to the number plate of the house, marking it clearly as the party destination.

Minho followed Jisung and his family, feeling oddly misplaced as they knocked. His stomach had hurt the entire way through the car ride, tight with nerves in case he saw his parents again. It would be easy to avoid them Hyunjin had assured him, because so many people would be there. Even so, he still looked around, absolutely paranoid.

Hyunjin opened the door with a forced grin that became a real one when he caught sight of Jisung and Minho. He was wearing a dress shirt and jeans.

“Hello!” he greeted Jisung’s parents politely and led them inside and showed them where to stow their coats and shoes. As soon as Jisung’s parents made their way over to the kitchen to greet Hyunjin’s parents, Hyunjin heaved a sigh of relief.

The kitchen was just as Minho remembered, clean and pristine. The counters were all white marble and the cabinets were full of fancy china and antique figurines. The room was packed with adults in varying degrees of semi-formal dress talking. Clusters of wineglasses decked every flat surface.

People kept turning to stare at Hyunjin, probably because he’d tied his blond hair back in a ponytail and looked simply stunning. Or because they had found out he had a boyfriend. It couldn’t have been either of the two. Hyunjin didn’t pay the stares any mind and led Minho and Jisung out of the kitchen to the foot of the stairs away from most of the guests who also turned their stares full blast to them too. Minho didn’t really care but Jisung looked nervous and Minho gave him a small nod.

As soon as no one was facing them, Hyunjin dropped his smile and heaved an enormous sigh.

“God, I am _so_ glad you guys are here now. I’ve been saying hi to everyone for an hour and I’m absolutely exhausted. I have been up since seven cleaning the house and I can’t wait to leave,” he hissed then immediately plastered on a plastic smile as Hyunjin’s mother walked up to them.

Minho grimaced as she walked up to them. Of course, her eyes automatically slid over Minho’s in surprise. She took in the bruises on his face and the slight swelling of his nose and a faint disapproval settled in the corners of her mouth.

“Hello boys,” she said with a typical hostess manner. “Jisung, is it? And Minho, I haven’t seen you in a very long time. I’m glad you and Hyunjin are friends again.”

Minho was suddenly aware of how scruffy and ugly he must look next to Hyunjin in his casual outfit and carelessly brushed hair. He could feel Hyunjin’s mum comparing them and he was losing. It shouldn’t have bothered him so much but her gaze was extremely piercing.

“That’s true, we…” He trailed off, unable to replicate Hyunjin’s fake smile.

“We were distant for a bit but now we’re back to best friends,” chimed in Hyunjin. “Mum, how much longer do I have to be here…you _promised_.” He put a meaningful emphasis on ‘promise’ and also cut off the growing awkwardness.

“Hyunjin told me you’re not staying with your parents anymore.” continued Hyunjin’s mother unflinchingly and shook her head in disapproval. “They’re already here. I gave them a right earful. To kick out their own son. You’re perfect in all other aspects.” She surveyed him as if about to dissect him underneath a microscope and as if she didn’t just let out a subtly homophobic remark.

“Um yeah I guess,” blustered Minho, at a loss. “I’ll see how things go, thanks for asking.”

Hyunjin’s mum hummed thoughtfully and then Hyunjin gave her a pointed glance.

“Don’t you have the party to get back to, Mum?” he said.

“All right, don’t get shirty with me” snapped his mum owlishly. “Since you’re here, I’ll let Hyunjin off the hook. Go and play with your friends, dear.”

Hyunjin nodded gratefully and they dashed upstairs which was out of bounds and went into Hyunjin’s room.

“God, I am so sorry.” Hyunjin shut the door tightly and instantly started changing out of his shirt into a more comfortable t-shirt.

“That was so uncomfortable to watch,” Jisung said, already sprawling across Hyunjin’s bed. “Hyunjin, your mum is so scary.”

“Meh,” shrugged Hyunjin, “She just wants the party to go well.”

Jisung said something in reply, but Minho wasn’t listening, he was struck silent by the nostalgia of Hyunjin’s room. How many times had he slept here in the past? There were photographs of him on the walls and in frames with Hyunjin. Hyunjin also had a photo of him and Jeongin, smiling ear to ear at their high school graduation. As they’d come up the stairs, Minho had also noticed the blown-up prints of Hyunjin in some kind of fashion shoot.

“I haven’t been here for so long,” murmured Minho, wonder in his tone. “My pictures are still here.”

Hyunjin laughed.

“I never took them down, although I did consider it.”

“Sorry about that,” Minho muttered. Jisung patted him on the back consolingly.

“Whatever, it’s all in the past.” Hyunjin shrugged. “We can leave when my parents start serving dinner. They won’t notice me leaving then.”

“I am so glad my mum never tried to become a socialite extraordinaire,” said Jisung. “I wouldn’t survive these stupid parties.”

“Shut up,” said Hyunjin and Minho simultaneously. They looked wryly at each other in shared pain.

“I don’t think I’ve been in your bedroom before,” said Jisung. “I mean, I’ve hung out downstairs but never in your room.”

“Well, welcome,” Hyunjin said, waving a hand carelessly. “It’s not much, anyway.”

They lapsed into conversation about what people had been up to.

“So how’s dating Jisung?” said Hyunjin. “It’s still so weird to me you’re together.”

Minho coloured and Jisung peered at Minho, evidently curious what he would say.

Minho wanted to deflect sarcastically or make some joke about how absurd it was, but he held it back.

“It is weird,” he begun self-consciously. “But it feels like things are meant to be this way.” If he was red before, he was positively flaming now as Hyunjin gagged.

Jisung looked away shyly, hiding a grin.

“I didn’t think your answer would be so cheesy, babe!” quipped Jisung with finger guns. “But seriously, we are meant to be. Just like you and Jeongin. You guys are the longest couple I’ve known and still going strong.”

“I haven’t seen Jeongin for a few days,” pouted Hyunjin. “He’s been in Busan visiting his grandparents.”

“Do any of Jeongin’s family know about you two?” said Minho curiously. Jisung quirked a brow.

“His dad does, remember?”

Hyunjin nodded in agreement.

“Jeongin’s dad already knew Jeongin liked me even before we got together.” Then he frowned. “But Jeongin’s mum and her side of the family don’t know. His parents are divorced, by the way.”

“I’m guessing your relatives don’t know?” Minho said. Hyunjin laughed bitterly.

“Of course not,” He sighed. “I’m used to having to hide it. But if I still manage to get a career out there, they’ll find out one day.”

Jisung got up from the carpet, knees squeezed together.

“Just going to the toilet,” he said, then waddled from the room.

Hyunjin sighed again, brushing his hair away from his face again.

“But yeah, I have to be really careful. I told the company what happened so they it’s public.”

“The _company_?” gasped Minho. Wouldn’t they be the last people who knew?

“Yeah, they caught me and Jeongin the one time we were careless.” Hyunjin grinned ruefully. “My manager saw us when Jeongin said goodbye to me at the dressing room.”

“So it worked out though?”

“It’s actually easier if they know,” said Hyunjin, hiding a yawn behind his hand. “I’d already signed the contract by then so it was difficult for them to get rid of me. And I’m getting pretty popular. Now they know, it’s easier for them to protect me, as well as Jeongin. They can be on the lookout for any rumours and just keeping Jeongin and my family from public eye. Of course, that was before I told everyone Jeongin was my boyfriend.”

“So what’re they doing now?” Minho asked, “The contract can’t be broken just because of this, right?”

“No, that counts as discrimination,” Hyunjin replied. “And Seungmin insisted on checking the contract before I signed it so he made sure it was fair. They could just try and stop me doing activities but I’m getting pretty popular internationally.”

He showed Minho his Instagram and his jaw dropped.

“You have over five hundred thousand followers!”

“Exactly,” Hyunjin said smugly. “And I haven’t even done any super official events. It would be their loss if they kicked me. The international fans don’t care either. In fact, I think somehow makes me more appealing.”

“That’s a relief,” said Minho. “It must have been so stressful then. To be honest, I was really jealous when Jisung told his parents about us so casually.”

“You and me both,” said Hyunjin. “I’m so glad I can talk to you. I love Jeongin and everyone but I feel like I can only say some things to you because you know me so well. Especially about my family.”

Minho agreed. Only Hyunjin understood what his parents could be like.

“Best friends?” he said tentatively.

“Obviously.”

Jisung returned from the toilet a few minutes later and when the footsteps downstairs amassed into one march towards the kitchen as Hyunjin’s parents announced dinner, the three of them opened the door of Hyunjin’s room, ready to escape only to come face to face with-

Minho’s parents.

“Let’s go,” said Minho, brushing past them and trying to head downstairs. He wasn’t going to listen to his mum slander Jisung again. Hyunjin and Jisung stood in the doorway, frozen.

“Minho, wait!” called his dad. “We need to talk.”

“Let’s go,” said Minho to Jisung and Hyunjin again, keeping his face expressionless.

“I don’t know,” said Jisung, “Maybe you could hear them out?”

“Yes Minho, please listen to him,” said his dad. He noticed how his mum hadn’t said anything and was staring at Jisung so hard Jisung looked like he was going to pee himself. He instinctively moved towards Jisung, to shield him.

“You. Better. Keep. Minho. Happy.” She ground out suddenly, looking as if she were badly constipated.

…Huh?

“Yes ma’am!” Jisung squeaked. Hyunjin grimaced beside him.

“Uh, I’m just gonna…” He threaded between everyone and ran away, leaving Minho and Jisung with his parents.

“I take it back. We’ll come and move all your stuff back home after this party. From wherever you’re staying right now.” said Minho’s mum. She didn’t explain why. Minho supposed he didn’t need to ask. She clearly hadn’t expected more people to look down on her for kicking Minho out than him having a boyfriend. A small blessing, he supposed. As toxic as people were, their children were their life’s pride and joy and giving up on your kid was apparently a worse crime than homosexuality.

Minho certainly hadn’t seen that attitude coming. It wasn’t quite acceptance but it was sure something.

“That’s at my place, ma’am,” Jisung said, sounding very frightened.

It was certainly better than Minho had expected. But he wasn’t going to just accept their terms like that.

“What if I don’t want to come home anymore?” he said, eyes piercing straight into his mum’s. “You think I can just pretend like this never happened?”

“Minho,” said his dad pleadingly. “I’m sorry. We overreacted but now we’ve realised that was wrong. We might not approve but we want to work things out and apologise to you. I promise it’ll be better.”

“You’re not the only one who was affected,” snapped his mum suddenly. “You humiliated us in front of everyone too and dragged our names in the mud.”

Jisung jerked his head at her, looking furious rather than scared.

“If you hadn’t reacted like that, then nothing would’ve happened,” he said heatedly. “That’s not Minho’s fault.”

“I know you’re sorry, Dad. I’m not going to say sorry for what I said because it’s true.” Minho said. His eyes swivelled to his mum’s. They seemed truly pitiful to him now. “I’ll come back on one condition.”

“What is it?” said his dad cautiously.

“You’re not the one I needed to hear that from.” Minho tossed his head. “I want _you_ to apologise.”

He knew he was being rude, addressing his mum like that but it felt so good he couldn’t help himself. They were the ones asking for him to come back and while earlier Minho would have thrown himself at their feet and have been grateful for their offer, he wasn’t as easily swayed now. He was the one in control here. See, they needed him to save their reputation. He wasn’t going to crawl back to them without getting something out of it.

“I said we were sorry,” his dad said.

“You always apologise for everything,” Minho said. “She has never said sorry to me for anything.”

His mum took a deep breath, glaring at him. Minho didn’t know if it was with love she was looking at him, or pure hatred. He really would never understand what went on in her head.

“I was wrong,” she said smoothly. “I’m sorry for everything I said and I overreacted. For that I apologise. I’ll be a better mother in the future.”

Minho was pretty sure she didn’t mean it, but it was enough.

“I’ll come back but not till the end of the holiday.” When they looked as if they were going to protest, Minho crossed his arms. “I need some time for myself to learn how to act around you again.”

“Excuse me, who’s gone upstairs!” called Hyunjin’s dad. “Please stay downstairs if you’re a guest!” He ran up the stairs and then stopped dead.

“Ah, I’m sorry for interrupting.”

“Don’t worry,” Minho said, flashing him a bright smile. “The conversation’s over.”

With that, he grabbed Jisung’s hand and they went downstairs where Hyunjin was waiting.

“How did it go? Was it ok?” he asked.

Minho and Jisung recounted what happened as they walked.

“You should have seen Minho,” said Jisung. “He was so cool.”

“Of course you were,” smirked Hyunjin. “They gave you a hard time, so you return the favour.”

By the time they got to Felix’s, people were already drunk. Conveniently, Felix’s family were at Hyunjin’s too. Hyunjin was off in an instant when he caught sight of Jeongin, flinging his arms around him in joy.

Minho felt himself relax fully. Here, he could be himself and not have to worry about anything.

First, he went to thank Seungmin, who waved everything off.

“Not at all,” he said. “It was really draining the atmosphere to see Jisung so down over Christmas. I might actually get drunk today.”

“Really?” scoffed Minho incredulously. “ _You_?”

“It’s New Year,” said Seungmin, “I can let my hair down a bit.”

Minho eyed Seungmin’s neatly trimmed locks.

“Right.”

They blasted through the music as things picked up and even got the karaoke out. All of them, even Minho had a go belting their lungs out. Jisung, to Minho’s surprise was a much better singer than Minho had given him credit before. He nailed every note of So Chan Whee’s Tears.

Changbin was also surprisingly tipsy. Minho had never seen him drink profusely any of the times they had hung out. He had a feeling Changbin was someone who liked to be in control of himself. Changbin looked unusually morose as well, sitting on the corner quieter than usual. He kept staring at Felix.

Felix was also watching Changbin with concern.

Minho didn’t feel like it was his place to intrude so he went to find Jisung. Everyone played a few games, chatted a lot and Minho told them about what’d happened with his parents, which was met with a lot of applause.

At midnight, the fireworks began. They couldn’t see much from the living room but Minho could hear them bang and thump over and over. It was fine. Fireworks were playing on the television as well, as the news broadcasted them being set off along the Han River.

Jeongin had swept Hyunjin in a kiss as soon as it hit midnight. Minho reached for Jisung.

“Let’s follow their example,” he whispered lowly and then they too were kissing to mark the New Year, new beginnings and a new life together. Minho smiled into their kiss as he pulled Jisung closer, not caring about what anyone else was seeing.

When they finally pulled apart, Minho left Jisung with the snacks on the coffee table to go to the toilet. Just as he zipped his fly and was about to step out the toilet, he froze.

In the hallway by the foot of the stairs were Changbin and Felix. Kissing.

That was a shock. As far as Minho knew, they’d been dancing around each other for years. He clamped a hand over his mouth in shock. Were they finally together?

Then Changbin ever so gently pushed Felix away from him.

“I’m sorry, Lix,” said Changbin, barely more than a whisper. Minho had to strain his ears to hear what he was saying. “I can’t do this.”

Then Minho realised he was massively intruding on a clearly private conversation but he couldn’t leave the toilet without them noticing. If he left now, it would be even more obvious he’d already seen them. So he kept silent.

“But you _like_ me,” Felix whisper-shouted harshly. “And you know I’ve liked you for so long. Why are you doing this to me? Why do you set me up and then break my heart over and over like this?”

“Because I just can’t do this,” Changbin said and he really did sound sorry. “I’m sorry. It’s too late now.”

“This conversation isn’t finished,” spat Felix hotly and he strode off back to the living room.

Changbin blinked and shook his head slowly then headed back as well.

A few minutes later, Minho silently left the toilet, worry hanging low in his gut. Should he tell anyone?

After some agonising over it, he decided against it. Whatever was happening there was between Changbin and Felix. That had been a private moment so Minho couldn’t interfere. It was different to the situation between him and Jisung.

Felix left the living room when the partying reached its end and returned with his arms full of assorted sleeping bags of different brands. Minho busied himself helping to lay them out and then Jisung knocked Minho’s hip with his.

“You took a long time in the toilet? Was your stomach okay?” Bless him, he actually looked concerned for Minho.

“I’m fine,” he replied, keeping his tone neutral. “Was just taking a shit, that’s all.”

Jisung’s face coloured.

“Er…you’re alright after us doing, you know…?” he whispered into Minho’s ear. Minho elbowed him hard in the ribs, turning red too.

“ _Yes_ ,” he hissed under his breath. “You didn’t do as much damage as you obviously think you did.”

Everyone clambered into their respective sleeping bags, Jisung and Minho obviously next to each other as well as Hyunjin and Jeongin. That didn’t stop the wolf-whistling and teasing though.

Minho noticed quietly that Changbin and Felix had placed themselves on opposite ends of the room. He wandered if anyone else had noticed that and was about to whisper to Jisung when Seungmin switched the lights off and the room went silent.

In a few minutes, snoring filled the room. Minho felt Jisung snuggle closer to him and breathed out, a small smile on his face, linking their hands.

It was another year. This time Minho was certain everything would be different. He wasn’t saying that life would become perfect, but whatever happened, Minho didn’t have to fight it alone any longer.

With that thought, he drifted off to sleep, his ears filled with the faint explosions of fireworks.

*

“Guys, wake up!” shouted Chan. 

Minho cracked open an eye, wincing at the bright light. The clock on the wall read eleven o’clock. He would have ignored Chan and went back to sleep but the panic in his voice was enough to make Minho sit straight up from his sleeping bag.

Chan was fully dressed and carding a frantic hand through his dishevelled hair.

“What’s happening?” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep. A few others perked their heads up, looking how Minho felt, sleepy and confused.

“Has no one seen him?” bellowed Chan. “Everyone, get on your phone!”

Minho stretched forwards to grab his phone and patted Jisung on the shoulder next to him.

“What?” murmured Jisung blearily besides him. “Five more minutes, man…”

“I can’t find Changbin!” Chan practically screamed. “He’s just up and disappeared! His parents don’t know either!”

Everyone was alert and scrambled out of their sleeping bags immediately.

“What do you mean you can’t find Changbin?” said Jisung, mouth hanging open. There was still drool on the side of his mouth.

Chan fidgeted with his hands and collapsed onto the sofa.

“I woke up early in the morning and I got up to go pee. I realised Changbin’s sleeping bag was empty so I thought he was in the toilet. But when I got there it was empty. I got confused so I looked for him around the house but he wasn’t there either. I figured he might have gone back home or was doing something weird. But I was still sleepy so I just went back to bed and thought I’d deal with it later.”

Chan’s face creased in upset as he carried on telling the story.

“Then I woke up before you all and Changbin still wasn’t there and I started getting worried so I called his parents to see if he went back there but they said he hadn’t come back. Then I tried calling and texting but he didn’t pick up either!”

It was like they’d all been slapped in the face. Shock radiated off everyone’s expression. Felix just froze completely.

Minho’s heart sank as he wondered if what he’d seen last night had anything to do with it. But surely that wouldn’t be the whole reason?

“It’s all my fault,” groaned Chan in a small voice. “I shouldn’t have gone back to sleep, god, I should have checked where he was.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” said Hyunjin firmly. “None of us knew this would happen. The first thing we have to do is try and find out if he’s safe.”

Jeongin nodded urgently. “And we should consider reporting it to the police if we feel like he’s gone missing and not out of his own choice. We shouldn’t wait too long.”

“Let’s not start jumping to conclusions. For all we know, Changbin could have gone shopping or went on a walk and didn’t take his phone with him. He might come back in a few hours.” Minho said calmly. “For now, let’s do what we can. Try and contact him and then check places he might go.”

“Yeah, we don’t have to panic yet,” added Seungmin. “I’m sure Changbin wouldn’t have gone too far. I-I mean, everything was normal last night, wasn’t it? Changbin didn’t act really abnormally…unless anyone noticed?”

They all paused to consider Changbin’s behaviour last night.

“He didn’t seem in the best mood, to be totally honest,” Minho said, breaking the silence. “He was fine with us, but on his own he did seem to be thinking really deeply a lot.”

He’d had to say it out loud, it was clear none of them wanted to think about that fact. But it was true, Changbin hadn’t been as happy as you’d expect from someone partying with his friends on New Year’s Eve.

“Actually,” Felix began shakily. “Something did happen between me and Changbin…”

Everyone except Minho stopped in surprise. He had been thinking it was the only thing that could have affected Changbin emotionally.

It was strange. They all knew Changbin and Felix liked each other but Changbin seemed determined that it couldn’t happen.

“What happened, Lix?”

Felix’s face was pulled taut with a frown.

“At midnight, I was just so tired of the back-and-forth between us…so I went to confront him and then I just _kissed_ him and he was responding, kissing me back and everything but then…”

Felix paused and then his eyes started getting really shiny.

Immediately everyone was around him, trying to comfort him in a protective huddle. None of them liked seeing Felix upset. It was a pretty rare sight as well from what Minho had heard from Jisung.

“He pushed me away and he didn’t deny that he liked me but he just kept saying it couldn’t happen. That he couldn’t do it. And he was sorry.” Felix said, barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but he-he also said it was too late. And I can’t help but think about what he meant by that!”

Yeah, everyone was definitely panicking now.

“Hey Felix,” said Seungmin reassuringly. “It’s okay. Thanks for telling us.”

“What if it’s my fault?” said Felix hoarsely, “Because of me…”

“It’s definitely not,” Jisung insisted firmly. “It could be that Changbin’s just a coward who’s running from his feelings.”

Then they all went on their phones to try and contact Changbin. Messages that showed they were really worried about him and just begging for him to reply. But it was to no avail. It was like he’d dropped off the face of earth. One moment he’d been celebrating the countdown to New Year with them and the next…just vanished. Like smoke in the wind.

The next hour was spent calling every one of Changbin’s relatives, friends on the course, anyone who had associated with him. Again to no avail.

“Where can he have gone?” Jisung kept repeating, more and more panic leaching into his voice. Minho held his hand tightly through it.

“It wasn’t because I made him help us that day, with your stuff?” said Jisung, wild theories flying around, just blaming himself.

“Don’t be silly,” Minho whispered. “You’ve known him for so long, I’m sure Changbin’s not a petty person.”

“You’re right,” said Jisung, “But that means we’re not any closer for where he is.”

They split up and drove around town, just looking for any sign of Changbin, any place he could have gone. They checked the park, the shops – none of which were open anyway on New Year’s, even around their old high school. Felix and Hyunjin went to check the woods while Chan and Jisung went to the basketball courts. They checked all over town and then when everyone met up again at Felix’s, their morale was thoroughly dampened by the fact no one had seen any trace of him.

Seungmin went and pulled some strings and got through to the university despite it being a holiday, citing it an emergency. None of them had dared tell Changbin’s parents yet, Chan had only talked to them in the morning but eventually they decided they had a right to know. Chan explained it to them and promised to keep them updated.

“They’ll call the police if we still don’t hear anything from him soon,” he said, looking agitated. “They don’t know why he’d disappear like this either.”

Seungmin kept arguing and making repeated phone calls, insisting he got given the information about Changbin despite not being a relative. Minho didn’t know how Seungmin managed to get the information without Changbin’s parents but an ugly truth was revealed.

“Really?” said Seungmin incredulously into the phone. “Thank you for telling us.” He hung up and looked at them, far more worried than before.

“Changbin, he…” began Seungmin. “He’s dropped out.”

“Changbin’s dropped out of his course?” said Felix in a daze.

This only made them worry more.

“It makes sense though,” Jisung said. “He’s always been talking about how much he hates the course and his parents and how things are going. Oh my god, the signs were all there – we just didn’t notice!”

Around that time, Changbin’s parents called Chan again. They’d gotten worried about Changbin after they’d went to his room to find it was empty of everything.

Immediately they all raced to Changbin’s house. It was really true. All of his belongings were all gone. Every trace of his existence had vanished with no explanation.

At this point, they were all worried sick and at more than one time during the day had someone cried out of frustration and panic.

His parents, shaken and distraught were about to inform the police when Jeongin let out a shout.

“There’s something here!”

There was a note tucked under the covers of Changbin’s neatly made bed. Changbin never made his bed normally.

Jeongin handed the note to Changbin’s mum like it was a hot coal and she unfolded it slowly, hands trembling.

_Dear Mum, Dad, Noona and anyone else who reads this,_

_Sorry I had to leave like this. I just couldn’t do it anymore._

The first lines made Changbin’s mum burst into tears for reasons they all felt, it sounded like a suicide note. It was what they’d all been thinking in the back of their minds, trying to push it away. Because it made no sense.

Changbin’s mum kept reading, her voice shaky and everyone’s expressions unnaturally grave.

_Please don’t worry about me. I’m safe. Don’t search for me, please. It would be best if you forget about me. I’m not worth it. I’m a coward._

_I’m sorry for not being able to be the son, brother, friend you deserved._

_I couldn’t tell you. I wanted to end the year in a good mood._

_I’m so sorry._

That was where it ended. Changbin’s parents looked at each other.

“Where did we go wrong?” said Changbin’s mum. “Why would he do this?” Changbin’s dad escorted her downstairs, expression lifeless and gave the rest of them a nod.

As soon as they left, Chan slammed his hand down hard on the desk, making them all jump. He was breathing heavily with a face like thunder.

“I’m sorry,” he said, when everyone started at the noise.

They were all frozen. Felix especially looked utterly wrecked.

“How long has been planning this?” asked Hyunjin in disbelief. “He can’t have just gone out with no plans, knowing Changbin.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. It meant that Changbin had been planning to disappear like this for ages and had just pretended nothing was happening. He had spoken to them, laughed with them while inside planning to disappear and never see them again.

Minho swore under his breath. He wasn’t the only one.

“Changbin, _what the fuck_ ,” cursed Jisung, fists clenched. “You fucking _idiot_.” Tears leaked from his eyes.

Minho immediately bundled Jisung in a hug, trying to keep himself together too. They were all so tired.

“We’re gonna find that bastard,” seethed Seungmin but his voice was exhausted. He was usually composed but now he looked on the verge of losing it, worn down by worry and anger. “He has to explain to us what the fuck he meant by that.”

Jisung was sobbing into Minho’s shoulder, staining his jumper with tears. Minho could only hug him tighter and try to comfort him. But what could he say?

It wasn’t okay. Things weren’t fine.

It seemed as soon as Minho dragged himself out of the mire, hands wrapped around his ankles again to pull him back down. His parents used to say some people were fated to a bad life, a cycle of retribution that never releases. Perhaps bad luck skipped a generation in his family.

When once he had nearly drowned, Jisung had grasped for him, reached through that thick suffocating mud, dirtying himself in the process to stop Minho being enveloped. Letting Minho’s head break the surface so he could breathe fresh air again. Minho had struggled out of the quicksand, stained but alive. Thanks to Jisung.

Now it was Jisung who was standing there in the quicksand as dirt rose to his knees. Minho would repay the favour. He would not let Jisung drown. He reached for the person who had transformed his life, determined to keep him out of danger. They would survive.

But here they were sinking, sinking, both sinking down, Jisung falling much faster than Minho. He would lift Jisung above him as long as he could. Until another pair of hands reached out to save them.

No, it was different this time. They were all in this together. They had each other. Felix was crying silently in the back and Jeongin was trying to comfort him, looking close to tears himself. Chan was dry-eyed but had a very scary expression.

But Changbin had had everyone around him. Yet even so he’d seen something so terrible about the world he was in that he’d decided to leave it behind.

Minho wiped Jisung’s tears gently with his fingers.

“We’re going to get through this together, I promise.”

Minho only hoped he could keep them both from drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it to the end I love you so so much for reading through all of this. We're finally at the end! A long-ass chapter of 10.5k words god. I could have split it but I badly wanted this fic to have 19 chapters for pretentious symbolic reasons so...
> 
> If you read the smut, it might come off as extremely weird but I wanted their dynamic to show in it and honestly find it hilarious. i tried to keep it realistic and still a little sexy though but this is usually how my smut ends up *shrugs* my first smut in a long fic haha.
> 
> Sorry about the ending! I tried to make it both happy and sad. Happy for Minsung but life is always mean T_T 
> 
> There will be a third and final part for this series centred on Changlix that I'm writing (heavily hinted by this ending) so if you're curious, I might start uploading in a few months or so (we'll see...)
> 
> Thank you again for reading this and sticking with it. I hope you enjoyed it. I did try and tackle a range of issues so it might make for heavy reading. Um and thank you to the readers who have been commenting as I've updated, not to act like a celeb but i wouldn't have finished it without your encouragement. There were so many thoughtful and lovely comments and many of you have influenced what happened to the story, hence the final word count jumping from 70k to 93k haha. 
> 
> much love,  
> besthonestliar

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> If you like it or hate it, holler at me anyway, I need attention!!  
> :D  
> besthonestliar x


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